Harry Potter: The Overlord Returns Home
by Gwydion669
Summary: Harry dies.  Harry wakes up and becomes the Overlord.  After conquering his world, he decides to return home and take care of unfinished business.  AU : Evil Harry, not Dark : H/Hr : Harry/Harem : Romance : Twisted/Dark : Hopefully funny
1. Hello, Hermione

*** Not mine. Nothing to see here. Read along. No part of the 2.7 billion dollar empire (and growing) is mine. I'm just a monkey banging away at a typewriter and this came up before Shakespeare.

Brightest Witch of Her Age …. _Bollocks._ Member of the Golden Trio … Friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived … Hero of Hogwarts …. _*Snort!* Watching your friends die makes you a hero? Really?_ Holder of the Order of Merlin, first class …. _Given away like candy afterwards … might as well be a chocolate frog._ Youngest Unspeakable Ever Unspoken Of ….

She had to pause and smile at that one. _I'll get you for that one Tyrone, you wanker. He would have laughed at that one. He would have …._ She shook her head, her thoughts once more turning sour.

_Don't forget 'Loving Wife'… add that one to the que. Maybe 'Betrayer of Friends'? No, no. Just 'Betrayer' sounds about right. It's more encompassing and covers a lot more sins. 'Accessory to Murder'? Don't downplay your role, girl! If you aren't proud of the honorific 'Murderer,' then why were you a party to it?_

The bushy-haired woman sitting at her dining room table took another sip from the glass tumbler in her hands. She grimaced as the amber coloured liquid burned its way down her throat.

'_Drunkard'?_ She paused and swirled the ice in the tumbler. That would at least be a new one. Glancing at the bottle of Odgen's on the table, her mind slipped back into what her coworkers called her analytical mode. After running through numerous calculations, she shrugged. _Nope. Not quite yet. But I'm young. I have prospects!_

Hermione found herself giggling for a moment and allowed a look of confusion to cross her face. _What? That's not right. This is my Personal Periodic Pity Party! No giggling allowed, damnit!_

_But it's not a proper P-4, is it? How could it be? I've yet to even mention 'Failed Mother' on the list of never-ending honorifics._

With a snarl, she blindly hurled the tumbler away from her. Firewhiskey splashed against the wall as the impact shattered a picture of three young children hugging each other and smiling for the camera.

Her anger disappeared as quickly as it had flared, leaving her feeling washed out and drained. Sighing, she pointed her wand at the remains of the frame. "_Reparro,_" she muttered.

"So young and innocent. So stupid and oblivious. If there were any way …."

She shook herself. _None of that, dearie. The past is past. Water under the bridge and all that rot. Reap what you have sown. There are no take-backs, no second chances!_

Grabbing a tissue from the box she had ready and waiting on the table for a point usually much later in her pity party, she dabbed at the three smiling children as she carefully placed the picture back on the stand. _So much for random targets. _Once again, her mind switched gears and entered what Ron called her "scary place." _How many times can magic repair something? Given the law of the conservation of magical energy, is there a point of diminishing returns? Will I eventually cast _Reparro _on the bloody same bloody photo and nothing will happen? Has anyone done a study? Would the volume of the object being repaired influence the …._

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

"Bloody Hell," she sighed. "Forget your keys again, my beloved husband? Or just too pissed to know which one fits the door? Which act shall we play out tonight, hmm?"

Hermione had to admit that she had almost gotten worried this time. It was not unusual for him to disappear for a day or two after one of their increasingly frequent rows. Four days had been a bit much, however, even for them.

Where had it gone wrong? The Darlings of the Wizardling World, the Heroes of Hogwarts had married shortly after the death of Voldemort. After all the pain and bloodshed, it had only made sense that they seek some sort of peace in each others arms.

_Oh, that worked out sooo well, didn't it? Once Tom-The-Bastard-That-Everyone's-Too-Bloody-Cowardly-To-Name-Even-After-His-Death died, where did that leave us?_

_Me … an Unspeakable. Not too shocking, I guess. It should have come as no surprise that He couldn't make the cut as an auror, though. Follow orders? Obey regulations? That would be like asking Snape not to sneer. Or to use conditioner._

_Bad Hermione, bad!_ She scolded herself. _Don't use cheap shots at Severus to divert you away from acknowledging that your life is a sham!_

With another shake of her head, she returned to her previous musings as she approached the door. _But lucky you, dearest husband … always lucky. How could they fire you! The big hero! The DMLE fire you? No bloody way! So of course they did the only thing they could. Turn you into a poster-boy. A mouthpiece. A puppet mouthing whatever rhetoric is in vogue at the ministry this week. Recruitment is where you are most valuable … bringing in the gullible to protect us from the Dark Lords of the future! Rah! And after years of swallowing Dumbledore's hogwash, why shouldn't you swallow that of the DMLE's?_

_Enough of the truth!_ She steadied herself and walked towards the door. It was once again time for The Lie. Time to perform The Dance with her chosen mate. They would both pretend – as usual – that the past few days had never occurred. Everything in their lives, their marriage, was bloody brilliant! Time to pretend that they were a happy couple whose love would last till the end of time. The _Daily Prophet_ said so and it couldn't be wrong, could it? Opening the door, she plastered on the fake smile which she had become so intimately familiar with.

And the fragile house of cards which had made up her life came crashing down.

As soon as the door opened, Hermione was no longer a twenty-five-year-old woman. She was a child of thirteen again. She was a bushy-haired, buck-toothed missile launching itself unerringly upon the figure standing on her front porch.

"God, I'm sorry … I'm so, so sorry," she managed to wail, sputter and hiccup simultaneously.

Her own tears blinded her, but she didn't care. Time could stop for all she cared. She would be happy standing here forever, crying here forever, wrapping this man in a bone-crushing hug the likes of which she hadn't given anyone since that terrible day ….

An iron wall slammed down inside her head blocking out the feelings of guilt and self pity. As Hermione the child was locked away, Hermione the Unspeakable shoved with all of her might. Her mind filed away details at lightning speed. The shove had not moved him in the slightest, it had only thrown herself backwards. The shove had been met with no resistance because … because … he had not hugged her back!

_Kit it, woman!_ she growled at herself. _Identify and neutralize!_ "You're not Harry! He's DEAD!" Spinning around, she ran back to the table and grabbed her wand. A split-second later it was aimed directly at the chest of her unexpected guest. She grimaced at how unsteady the wand was in her hand.

"I got better," chuckled the figure still standing in the doorway.

Hermione snarled out a spell and watched the man pivot smoothly out of the way. The stunner sailed past him and he sighed. "No respect for the classics, Mione?"

She felt her heart rise into her throat. How many times had she wished to hear him say her name … and wake up to find herself in the Grifindor common room? Harry and Ron teasing her about falling asleep while studying and then listening to her recount the nightmare she had?

"You've no right to that face!"

"Sorry, but having been born with it, I've gotten rather used to it. And please don't fire off another stunner. There might be children playing outside." Harry waggled his eyebrows but no mirth shined in his eyes.

"What did I give you for your tenth birthday?"

Harry barked out a laugh. "Manifest Moody much?" With a disinterested shrug, Harry answered, "Nothing … but I don't hold THAT against you. We didn't even meet till first year when you were helping Neville look for his toad. I did actually get a present on my tenth, though. A broken finger and two lost teeth courtesy of Vernon and Dudley." Harry scratched at his chin. "I'm not sure if I ever told you about that. I didn't much like going into details."

Hermione idly stared at the hand holding her wand. It was now almost violently shaking. "Ha – Harry?"

"Yes, Hermione, it's me."

"But … but …."

"You'll have your answers." Harry gestured towards the couch. "Shall we sit? It's a bit of a tale. And could we have some tea? I haven't had a good cup of tea in years!" Hermione simply stood there staring at him. "I'll take that as a 'no,' then. Pity," he dryly chuckled.

Sitting down, Harry gestured again to the seat opposite him. He waited patiently until the woman finally sat down, her back stiff and her wand still in hand.

"I … I saw you die."

Harry shook his head. "Wrong on two counts. One, I didn't 'die.' I was murdered. Let's not get all PC and cloud up the facts. Two … you didn't watch."

Startled, Hermione looked up. She was about to protest when Harry snapped his fingers and some … thing … faded into view. As she was raising her wand, Harry interjected, "Don't be alarmed. He's with me. Think of him as a house elf … just not as bright and twice as loyal."

"Meez Horatio! Meez Horatio!" The green creature was practically dancing in place and smiling with a mouth which seemed somehow wider than its face. It did look something like a house elf perhaps crossed with a lizard.

"Please don't hex him. It took forever to teach him to use that kiddie camera I got for him."

"Six monzs! Six monzs! Meez mastah's Foe-Toe-Tagger!" The creature puffed out his chest proudly making himself look quite ridiculous.

Smiling nervously, Hermione lowered the wand back to her lap. It seemed friendly enough and reminded her so much of Dobby.

"Horatio?" Hermione raised an eyebrow towards the dead man relaxing on her couch.

Harry sighed. "I was quoting Shakespeare and the little bugger thought I had named him. He was so happy that I didn't have the heart to correct him. But back to the matter at hand …." Extending his arm, Harry waited for the Green to stop puffing and gingerly hand over a thick folder.

"Youz Foe-Toes, mastah!"

"Thank you, Horatio. Now do me a favor and _try_ to bounce quietly. This young lady and I have much to discuss." Harry opened up the folder and started rifling through its contents. "Amazing advances the muggles have made since my death. I must admit, though, once the little blighter got the concept of 'point and shoot' down, he seems to have a definite eye for composition." After turning a few pages, Harry selected one and tossed it to the table between him and Hermione. "That's a really good one. It really captures the drama of the moment. Skeeter would set her own knickers on fire while still wearing them to get a hold of that picture."

_Hm_, he thought. _Not a bad idea. I really should file that away for later._

Looking at the photograph on the table, Hermione's blood immediately turned to ice. Her constantly recurring nightmare had somehow been captured on film.

Harry and Voldemort were facing each other, energy linking their wands together. Both were screaming while Dumbledore hit Harry in the back with the spell that had killed both Harry and the Dark Lord.

"And all my friends standing around in the background. Not one making a move to prevent my cold-blooded murder. Not so much as a raised hand and an 'Um, Headmaster … why not try shooting Voldemort instead?'" Harry went back to rifling through the stack of photos. "Death, murder … po-TAE-to, po-TAH-to. Now as for the second point of contention …."

Another photo joined the first on the table. This one was merely a blown up image from the background of the first. "You didn't watch. You were crying into Ron's shoulder _as it was happening_. You knew in advance what was coming. And you did nothing. You said nothing. Thanks for the tears, by the way ... at least I know you cared."

Hermione sat silently for a long time, trembling. Tears ran freely down her face.

"Harry, I -" she finally whispered.

He continued on, ignoring her. "But that's not the best part. Definitely not. At least Dumbledore had the decency to look all serious and grave. I've got to grant you … the man knows how to handle a photo-op. Your hubbie, well, that's another story. Take a look at his face. See the man you married … the man you spread your legs for."

Hermione was completely numb. She felt like she had been shattered into a thousand pieces. The last part of Harry's statement hadn't even registered yet. Part of her thought she might have handled it better if he had ever raised his voice. There was no anger in Harry's tone, no accusation. He was having a casual conversation and simply espousing facts. No matter that each fact was a dagger being thrust into her soul.

"Come on, Mione," Harry said gently. "Take a look. I'm actually thankful that you were facing away from the camera. If I had seen _that_ expression on _your_ face … even I could not have guessed what kind of monster I might have become."

It took a while, but Harry waited patiently. Hermione finally raised her head and looked at the second photograph. It was of her and Ron. She was clinging to Ron, crying into his shoulder. Her eyes went wide upon seeing the expression on her husband's face.

She had never seen Ron look so cold. It couldn't be. He wouldn't!

"Smug satisfaction at the death of his 'best friend'? Rubbish! There must be some other explanation. Not Saint Ron, Hero of Hogwarts, Loving Husband, and Best-Mate-of-the-Boy-Who-Lived!" Harry tossed several other photographs onto the table. "Maybe one of these will reveal the true Ron. Hm, there he is with Katie Bell at his stag party. Well, some believe that blokes should get a free pass in that situation. How about this one? Wearing a tux and snogging … strange, that bride's maid outfit looks familiar, don't you think? This one's from last week. Some bird he works with at a hotel near the ministry. Bloody Hell, Horatio! Did you crawl into the bed with them?"

"Zoom, zoom!" burbled the Green, bouncing around and glad to have been of service.

One at a time, Harry just dropped picture after picture down to the table. "It's amazing how many women will drop their knickers for an Order of Merlin. Now this one … gah! Him and Millicent. That's just … wrong." After an exaggerated shudder, Harry's voice became gentle once again. "This one. This one is special." Carefully, he placed the latest photo in front of the stunned Hermione. "The girl is no one special. The place is no where special. The sex is laughable, but again nothing special."

Hermione was drifting along in a fog. She had never even noticed when Horatio had slipped the wand from her hand at a slight signal from Harry. "What's so …." she finally whispered.

Harry leaned back into the couch. He was about to motion Horatio for the wand but changed his mind after seeing the minion using it to pick his nose. Returning his attention to the shell of a woman across from him he continued in the same gentle voice, "There's a date stamp at the bottom."

To Hermione's mind, it seemed like an hour before she could even begin to focus on the date. Everything was a blur. Once she could make out the numbers, she just looked at them without comprehension.

"You were in St. Mungo's. That was the day of your miscarriage."

_Place the flame on low, cover, and allow to simmer._ Harry stood up and walked towards the kitchen. Hermione wasn't going anywhere for a bit. He started rooting around in her cupboards. There had to be some tea somewhere in here. This was England, for God's sake!

Finally finding some tea, Harry scrounged up a kettle and placed it on the stove. While waiting for the water, he opened the back door to allow a few more Greens into the house. They had been well briefed beforehand and would not reveal themselves until ordered.

"Still five sugars, right?" Harry called out while fixing his own. Not receiving an answer, he took the two cups and returned to the living room. Placing her cup on the table near the photos, he leaned back and casually sipped at the tea. "Ah! Strange the things we miss most after a few years. I can't wait to introduce the Browns to espresso. That'll be fun."

Harry took the time to enjoy his tea and appraise the woman the girl of his memory had turned into. After his last sip, he simply shook his head. _Ron … what an idiot! She went from strangely cute, to pretty, to gorgeous. Brains and beauty, the full monty. A bit of a problem with loyalty, yes, but you can't have everything. Quality over quantity, mate._

"Hermione? Are you still with me? Honey? Kitten?"

Her tears had stopped, her body finally having no more to shed. Puffy, dead eyes raised to look blankly in his direction.

"I'm not going to ask you why. We'll get to that later. For right now, I just want to know if it was worth it?"

For a bit, Harry was worried that he had broken her already. She just stared at him. Finally, she made the slightest of shakes of her head. Then, to his complete surprise, she spoke in a voice completely lacking in spirit. "Where's Ron? What did you do?"

Harry burst out laughing. It was the first real laugh he had experienced in a long time. Horatio dived under a table and cowered, fearing the worst.

Pressing his hands to his gut in a futile effort to diminish the pain, Harry eventually brought himself under control. This time, his smile actually reached his eyes and there was no hint of sarcasm in his voice. "The Brightest Witch of Her Age … the most _brilliant_ witch of her – or any – age. God's, I missed you, Hermione! Even before I remembered you, I knew I was missing something. Or someone."

Harry shook his head with a final chuckle. "Ron betrayed me. And then he betrayed you. Neither is forgivable. I have the right to hurt you after what you did to me, but not him. Never him." Harry picked up the folder once again and started dropping more pictures onto the table. "He was on his way home – pissed like you couldn't believe – a few days ago. I had my minions pick him up. Yes, I have minions now. Tons of fun; everyone should have a few. We entertained him in my dungeon – well, the torture chamber just off the dungeon, to be precise – and had a long talk about friendship."

As he spoke, Harry dropped more and more photos onto the table. Hermione had had the mistaken belief that nothing more could faze her. To her horror, she found that she had been mistaken. She turned greener and greener at each revealed photograph.

"The prat had no staying power … but I'd guess you would know that better than me. I think he went insane before we even finished the first day of our talk. Truly disappointing. I sincerely hope that our talks go much better."

Harry dropped the last three photos from the folder. Seeing them, Hermione simply vomited onto the table, covering the photographs with Odgen's, bile, and what little she had eaten for the last two days.

"Phew, Hermione. You should really lay off the sauce." Harry stepped back and brushed at his pants before wiping his hand against the couch. "Yes, well … my minions deserved a reward after all their hard work getting me back here. They deserved the feast. I kind of had the image of Ron roasting on a spit, but they actually prefer their meat raw. It worked out better, in the end, though. I think he managed to keep screaming until the second course."

Walking to the dining room, Harry picked up the box of tissues. Returning to Hermione, he carefully raised her head and wiped at her lips. "You can see some of him later, if you'd like. I think one of the minions turned his head into a puppet. Are you ready to go?"

Harry held her chin while she just stared at him blankly. Harry sighed. Leaning down, he gently kissed her on the forehead. He might have gone a tad too far too soon with her, but he couldn't help it. "Greens. Take her through the portal and put her in the dungeon. Clean her up first, though. No harm is to come to her. Have the Blues give her a few calming draughts and put her to bed. And someone wipe down and gather up those photos."

Moving like a zombie, Hermione was carefully pushed, pulled, and tugged by a number of minions around her. They knew that their master considered this human special, and none of them were going to tempt his ire.

Harry mentally activated the link between himself and his … well, major domo, maybe. Even after all these years, he didn't really know what to make of the ancient minion. The amber jewel on his wristband glowed as the connection was made. "Gnarl?"

_Yes, sire? How might I aide Your Malevolence at this time?_

"The woman coming through the portal shortly is not to be harmed or even improperly touched in any way. Have some Blues meet her and the Greens in the dungeon. I was going to tell the Greens to put a suicide watch on her, but I don't think they'd understand the concept."

_I'm sure they would be able to watch her commit suicide just fine, sire._

Harry grinned. "Getting a mite cheeky in your old age, Gnarl?" Harry could almost sense the returned grin.

_We'll take good care of her until you're ready to attend to her. Shall we prepare for your return?_

"No … not quite yet. It's going to take Hermione some time to recover. I think I'll go ahead and tackle the conundrum wrapped in an enigma before I head back."

_As you wish, master._

*** Monkey Banging Notes: First story. No beta. Post-story apologies to those who use the Queen's English. I speak North American ... the dialect known as "Southern Good Old Boy." I apologize for mangling the lingo. I'm not as twisted as this story implies. Oh, such a lie! But this story insisted on being written first._  
><em>


	2. Meeting the Minions

*** Ain't mine. All OOC and AU. No profit being made. Just banging away at the keyboard waiting to channel Old Bill. Warning … pre-Evil Harry.

_Eight years ago ... in a land far, far from England._

"Okay. This is different."

Carefully, the reclining figure raised his hands. They met solid stone only a few inches above his body.

_That's not good._

Drawing his arms up to his chest, he began to feel out the cramped space he found himself within.

_Wish I had some light. Good thing I'm not claustrophobic._

Running his fingertips across the corners, he was able to slip his fingernails into the seams above him. Apparently, whatever he was inside of – his mind instinctively shied away from the word "coffin" – had some sort of lid.

Drawing his legs up, he placed his feet flat against the floor of the … tiny stone-enclosed chamber … and pressed his knees against the stone above him. Squaring his shoulders, he placed his palms flat against the surface at a point where he randomly guessed he might attain the most leverage.

After taking a few deep breaths – and hoping that the chamber was not airtight – he pushed.

Then he pushed again.

Not receiving any cooperation from the stone above him, he changed tactics.

"Hello?" He pounded the bottom of his fist against the surface which resulted in only dull thuds. "Hello! Is anyone out there?"

It might have been his imagination, but he swore he heard something which sounded like the skitter of rocks upon rocks. "Hello?" he tried again, a bit louder. "Beg pardon … but could I have some help over here?"

"Mastah?"

"Urm … no. Unless you would help him but not me. Then … yes."

There followed an exceptionally long silence. "Are you still there?"

"Mastah?" This time the voice was more hesitant, evidently confused.

"Yes. This is 'mastah.' I seem to be stuck in here. Could you get me out?"

"Mastah! Mastah!" The excitement in the voice was obvious.

"Yes, yes. Now get me out of here!"

"Mastah! Me helpz mastah!"

There followed an exceptional amount of grunting and groaning. At one point there was a loud squeak and the entrapped figure was certain that the disembodied voice had sprained something.

Noting that the sounds were unusually clear, the reclining figure renewed his exploration of his surroundings. _Ah, there!_ There seemed to be a large crack in the lid above his belly which he had missed earlier. Not too big, but enough to assuage his fears. No longer worried about air, he stuck a finger through the small gap only to pull it back quickly. It felt like wet sandpaper had been scraped across it.

"Did – did you just lick my finger?"

"Um … mayzbe?"

"Listen," he began, losing patience and wiping his finger against his leg, "can you get me out or not?"

"Ya, ya, ya, mastah!" The grunting noises redoubled in their urgency and were followed by a definite yelp. "Mayzbe no?"

The reclining figure sighed in the darkness. "Can you go get help?"

"Ya, ya, ya!"

After several moments of silence, he sighed again. "Go get help."

"OK. Meez go gets Gnarl!"

"Fine! Get Gnarl. And a crowbar. And come back!"

"Yes, mastah!" This time the declaration was accompanied by more skittering sounds. Hopefully whatever the mentally-challenged creature had been would soon return. Crossing his ankles and placing his hands behind his head, the reclining figure decided that waiting was definitely the best option at the moment. It was too early to rule out panic, true … but he decided that waiting deserved a chance.

Almost a half hour later, by his best guess, there came the sound of … whatever it was … returning to … wherever they were.

"Are you absolutely certain, Gnibbly?" The voice, while a bit high pitched, was deeper than the one heard earlier. It brought to mind fingernails and chalkboards. A voice like that could never laugh but it could surely cackle.

"Ya, Gnarl! Mastah be here! Mastah want out! Mastah sent meez to youz for getting out!"

Deciding to announce himself, the 'mastah' in question gave the stone of the lid a solid thump. "Hello out there! Are you Gnarl?"

"What? Oh, yes, sire, I am. My apologies for not being here to greet you earlier. It's been so long since the last Overlord that I …."

"Whatever. Apology accepted. Did you bring a crowbar with you? Can you get me out of here?"

"Um … no, no 'crowbar,' but we'll have you out of there in a moment. You three! Grab that lid and put your backs into it!"

After some more grunting there came the pleasant sound of stone sliding on stone. A torch of some kind was present and the newly released figure blinked at the sudden light.

"Rub some acid into his eyes. That will freshen him up!"

'Mastah' slapped away the hand which neared him leading to a surprised yelp from the creature. "None of that! I'm quite 'fresh' enough, thank you. I'm so fresh, I could be a bloody advert!"

Retreating from the edge of the coffin, Gnarl stepped down from the pedestal. No one saw the slight frown on his face. He did get so few opportunities to amuse himself. The aged minion had come to enjoy the acid prank.

Sitting up in his man-sized stone chest, the released teen looked about himself. The creatures hopping about were odd looking with their long ears on heads slightly too large for their squat bodies. If they were capable of standing up straight, their arms would bring their hands to below their knees. All of them carried themselves in a hunched forward position reminding him of apes he had seen in a zoo.

The teen shook his head for a moment. When had he been to a zoo?

The creatures were dressed in rags except for the one he assumed was Gnarl. That creature was also dressed in rags but wore many more of them stitched and tied together to create an approximation of robes. His colour was a strange lavender mixed with ashen-gray rather than the brown of the rest. Some sort of tackle was tied to its back with a glowing stone in place of a hook hanging above its head. That must have been what he had thought to be a torch at first.

"Thanks for getting me out of that. Might I ask a few questions?"

"Of course, sire! That's why I'm here. It is my honour and privilege to guide you down the Dark Path which leads to your glorious destiny."

That statement about destiny left a sour taste in the back of the teen's mouth for some reason, but he shrugged it off. "I guess I should first ask if I'm okay. Was I in some kind of accident? Got myself a bump on the noggin, maybe? I have very little memory of anything before waking up in this … box."

"Yes, sire. That always happens upon your arrival, I'm afraid. Don't worry, however. I'm confident that your head will be swarming with the memories of your vile deeds and dark plans in no time!" The strange creature managed to actually sound giddy with excitement.

"Right. Okay. Let's try something else: Who am I?"

"Why you're the Overlord, sire! The Epitome of Evil, Master of Minions, and Ruler of All You Survey!"

The teen sighed in exasperation. "I'm not interested in the titles! What's my name?"

"Erm. Well … the magic of the tower _does_ give me a scroll with the basics. I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to look at it yet. Most Overlords never really bother to ask in the beginning. They usually like to go straight to the raping, looting, and pillaging."

"Perhaps later," growled the teen. Hoping that his forced smile did not come out looking like a grimace, he asked, "Would you be so kind as to look up my name … _please_?"

"Certainly, sire, certainly. I know it should be in here somewhere …." Gnarl opened the flap of the stuffed pouch he wore slung at his side. Picking through scroll after scroll, he finally found one with an unbroken seal. "Ah, here we are!" Slicing through the wax with a claw, he unfurled the parchment and began to scan its contents.

"Your name, sire, is Harry Potter …."

"Potter? I'm some sort of craftsman?"

"A Craftsman of Evil, undoubtedly! A true artiste! The tower only chooses the best! Ahem …. You're a wizard – oh, good! We haven't had one of _those_ in a while! – from someplace called England. You were an abused child … good fertile ground for an Overlord, that environment is. Lots of titles … let's see: The-Boy-Who-Lived … good, good … probably the survivor of some dynastic power struggle … Vanquisher of Voldemort … ooh, a Warrior-Mage, then … Child of Destiny … that one's usually a bitch, my condolences, sire … Champion of the Li – err, my apologies, sire. That one must be a misprint. Ahem … Hero of –." After staring at the blasphemous parchment for a moment, Gnarl quickly rolled it back up. "Um, we seem to be having a few technical difficulties at the moment, master. I'm sure it will all be straightened out as soon as the Tower Heart is back in close proximity to the tower."

"Harry Potter. Ha-REE Pah-TUR. Nope, sorry. Doesn't ring any bells."

"A sword by any other name is just as bloody, sire. Did you want us to call you … Harry?" The wrinkled minion seemed to cringe at the prospect.

"No, no. Sire or Master will be fine for now."

Gnarl sighed in visible relief. Such familiarity would have been simply terrible for morale.

Looking down, Harry formed his next question. "Now … do you have anything I could wear?"

"But of course, sire! We'll have you into your armour in just –"

"Wait! Did you just say armour? As in 15 to 25 kilos of _metal_, armour?"

Gnarl coughed. "Probably a _bit_ more than that, my lord. It will probably need some adjustments, though … we were expecting someone taller."

"Is there a war going on?"

"Always, sire! The treacherous and vindictive forces of Good are always interfering in the proper spread of Evil! We have met with some … temporary setbacks, yes, but you are here now and shall prove to all that Evil always finds a way!"

Harry stared at the strange creature. Gnarl was much more intelligent – or at least intelligible – but were all of them always so high-strung? "Sorry … I meant as in right now. Or right outside the door."

"Well, _no_, sire. But –"

"Regular clothing would be fine, then."

"But … but …" sputtered the minion.

Behind Gnarl, the three brown creatures sniggered and made playful swings at each other or pumped their tiny fists in excitement. Very few masters managed to make Gnarl sputter and none remembered any who had done so this soon. Fun times were definitely ahead.

"Robes would also be fine if you can't find pants and a jumper."

* * *

><p>"Are you completely BARMY?"<p>

"But … sire!"

Harry pointed at the huge ball of energy hanging in the center of the room. "You want me to … with that … that … HELL NO!" Harry placed his fists to his hips … which felt rather strange in his current attire. The minions had scrounged up a pair of sandal-like shoes for his feet and an old curtain which he wore like a toga belted around his waist with a length of rope.

Gnarl massaged his temple feeling a deep, throbbing pain beginning to develop. Why was the current master making things so difficult? Perhaps he should talk slowly and use small words … that might do it. Having been chosen, this Harry Potter was obviously a pillar of Evil and one of the most vile of the vile. Unfortunately, that didn't mean he had to be bright.

Adopting a weak smile, Gnarl spread his hands before him. "Master. I don't, myself, understand all the mechani – erm, stuff that makes stuff work. When there is no Overlord in the tower, the tower looks for a suitable replacement. It takes time because it doesn't just choose any bad man. Or woman … unfortunately."

Gnarl shuddered. THAT had not gone well. It hadn't been _his_ fault. Why had her arse have to be so … so … delectably touchable?

Returning to the present, the minion continued. "Once it has found a suitable … um, good bad man, the tower –"

"Stop that." Harry rubbed his own temple. "Just … stop it. I'm not an idiot. I hope you aren't an idiot. Just make your point and we'll go from there."

Right. This one was a wizard! Maybe he was one of those who wanted as much information as possible before they did anything. They could be a pain in the arse as well, but at least they could be reasoned with. "My apologies, sire. The tower somehow – not my department, I'm afraid – gathers the essence of the deceased evil and reconstitutes it here. The process is a bit dodgy, and you are not as of yet complete. I would guess that it has to do with the merging of the memories of who you were with the memories of the previous Overlords."

"So I … died?"

"Oh, yes, sire. Your body – along with basic but incomplete memories – forms where we found you. Any wounds, injuries, maladies, etc, are gone from the shell in your rebirth. In order to regain your full memories – that which makes you essentially 'you' – you simply have to step inside that sphere and absorb that which was left out. Simple really. Practically all the Overlords have done it immediately after exiting the coffin with no problems. Think of it as a kind of tradition."

Harry looked over at the two meter sphere of "essence" which hovered in the center of the room.

"'Practically all,' you said. Have there been any who didn't?"

"Well, no, master. Eventually they did enter to reclaim their memories. Some Overlords with a taste for the poetic have called it their 'souls,' claiming that a person's memory is what defines them and makes them who they are. Some have waited for a time, though. The essence does seek out its host in some sort of trickle. The sphere shrinks and memories slowly return as time passes. It's an extremely slow process and is quite pointless."

"How long would it take?"

Shrugging, Gnarl examined the sphere. "Oh … I'd guess yours would take a few decades or so. Five … maybe six. Hard to judge, really."

"We'll find another way."

"Pardon, sire?"

"One, just because something is a 'tradition,' that doesn't make it smart." Pausing, the young Overlord shook his finger at the sphere swirling before them. "Two, I am NOT about to swallow a ball of energy bigger than my head!"

Clasping his hands behind his back, Harry began to pace around the chamber. Disregarding the sputtering Gnarl, he mused, "Given two options I dislike, I'll be buggered if I don't do my best to find or make one I will like."

In the corner, one of the brown creatures started hopping up and down. "Numbah thwee! Thwee!"

Gnarl shot an angry glance at the creature and rolled his eyes as it proudly held up five fingers and bobbed its head so rapidly that Gnarl was certain it would fly off.

Harry smiled, appreciating the lightening of his mood. "What's your name, little one?"

"Meez no have name yet, mastah." The brown thing looked crestfallen.

"We can't have that, can we? Your name is now Bob. Keep up the good work." As Bob started doing summersaults, Harry returned his attention to the ominous globe. "Smaller chunks, maybe?" he mused while stroking his chin. "It can't be THAT hard to subdivide a soul, can it?"

*** Note: I wanted to get further (at least to the Unicorns in the game), but I decided to go ahead and get this out into cyberspace. The next "friend" on twenty-four-year-old Harry's list is eagerly awaiting the Overlord's visit.


	3. Tea and Necromancy

***** Obligatory disclaimer. I have no ownership of any characters or locations relating to any massive, commercially successful franchise. If you think Harry Potter is mine or I'm making any profit, you should definitely make an appointment with a psychiatrist. Not an evil chapter per se, but I hope it's found suitably dark and twisted.**

***** A few words of warning for the squeamish who might – for some unknown reason – be reading a story tagged as "Evil, not dark, Harry" and rated M (and who for some additional unknown reasons have stuck around to reach chapter 3): Aside from the usual bad puns, movie quotes, Peter's Evil Overlord list, and mangled British Speak, there will be some mention of slavery, child molestation, animal cruelty, incest, Billy Crystal, more Monty Python, and a slight dash of murder. Enjoy.**

**Chapter 3**

**Tea and Necromancy**

Harry Apparated to the foot of a hill in the county of Devon. Glancing towards the horizon, he wondered if he would some day find the time to check out Otter River now that he was back. It was likely lovely this time of year. He had never gotten around to going while he had stayed at The Burrow. England was a beautiful country and he had actually found himself missing her. He only had problems with seemingly most of the people in it. Well, at least the Wizarding portion of it.

An image of the Dursleys crossed his mind. How many other muggles were like them behind closed doors? Perhaps he shouldn't be too hasty. If anyone knew the penalty for being too trusting, it was definitely him.

Looking to the top of the hill, Harry wondered what he would find within the short black tower. He remembered the girl who resided there as being delightfully odd … but being executed by one's friends really had the tendency to cast a pallor of doubt on one's relationships.

_Oh well, there's no use wondering. And I'm rubbish at divination. Might as well gather my famed Gryffindor courage and charge into the Ravenclaw's den._

Harry chuckled as he strolled up the hill. He remembered the look on Gnarl's face when the minion had once demanded to know where he had developed his "block-headed stupidity." The shouted response of "Gryffindor" had merely served to confuse the minion master further.

Continuing his leisurely stroll up the hill, Harry sent out mental instructions to his minions. Horatio was already under a Disillusionment Charm. He wasn't that great a fighter, but he was one of Harry's best sneaks. With the charm combined with the Green's own innate abilities, Horatio was almost guaranteed to be able to slip inside with Harry.

_Assuming that she will let in a dead man, of course._

The four Browns were ordered to circle the base of the tower to provide backup if it should come down to a fight. Overlords did not fight fair. Smiling to himself, Harry would try to remember to ask Bob which rule that had been. Even with their charms in place, he wanted the Browns far enough around the cylinder to be out of view from the door. He had no real clue as to how Luna would jump when push came to shove.

He hadn't been that concerned with his ability to push Hermione's mental buttons – at least not after he had received that bone-crushing hug on her porch.

Harry felt a strange shiver at the inadvertent flash of memory: Her arms holding him within a death grip … the weight of her head in the crook of his neck … the way her hair tickled at his nose … the scent of her … his desire to disregard the past and just return the hug and never let go ….

Harry shook himself, quickly shoving the memory into a locked portion in the back of his mind. Rubbing his arms briskly, he cursed the English weather. _Always seems so bloody cold at the strangest times._

Luna was, however, another kettle of fish entirely. He wouldn't be surprised if she had mental buttons, but he would damn well laugh at anyone who claimed that they could figure them out!

After checking to make sure that his Browns were out of sight, Harry squared his shoulders and knocked on the door of the rook-shaped building.

The door was shortly thereafter opened by Miss Luna Lovegood. The first thing Harry noticed was that the past eight years had been quite kind to her. Luna was still on the thin side, but she had filled out in a manner appropriate to her small frame. She wasn't a true beauty, but she was pleasant enough to look at and compared quite favourably with the prettiest of the servants who kept his tower clean.

_In more ways than one, eh, sire?_

_Shut it, Gnarl. Just because I'm not blocking you out this time doesn't mean that you shouldn't keep your perverted observations to yourself … whether true or not_, Harry mentally grinned.

Luna simply stood there and stared with those piercing silver-grey eyes of hers. There were some paint smudges on her face and fingers. A paint brush was in her hand while her wand was tucked behind one ear. Never blinking, she cocked her head slightly to the side and then moved her head to look at Harry from several angles. Her face still free of expression, she stuck her brush into her mouth to have two free hands. Taking hold of Harry's chin, she turned his face slightly to the side. With her free hand, she gently took hold of Harry's left ear and bent it forward, obviously looking to see if she found something there … or not.

Letting go of a bemused Harry, Luna popped her brush out of her mouth, blinked, and smiled angelically at him. "Harry! You've returned from the dead. I never knew you were a necromancer. That's wonderful! Please come in … it's so nice to see you again. Would you care for some tea?"

_Were you expecting this reaction, sire?_

_Kind of … I was expecting her to react in an unexpected manner. I appreciate the offer of tea, though! If she has to die, I'll make it quick. One should truly reward proper manners!_

Glancing downwards then back at Harry, Luna added, "Feel free to have your little friend join us. Would either of you care for biscuits?"

Harry's eyes widened. _Horatio __**not**__ being noticed was about the only thing I __**was**__ banking on!_

_Oh well, sire … now that the plan has hit the midden … Go Gryffindor! Rah!_ The mental chuckle emanating from the tower a cosmos away was dripping with both mirth and sarcasm.

Harry affected an embarrassed grin then shrugged. "Sorry about that, Luna. Not being dead … then knocking people up … and no, I'm not a necromancer."

"I understand completely, Harry. Very prudent of you. After being murdered by the Order, you have the right to be jumpy. But give whoever the necromancer _is_ my compliments … he or she seems to have done excellent work." Hunching down slightly, she looked from the invisible Horatio to Harry. "So … are you going to introduce us?"

"You can actually see him?" As he asked, Harry shook his head in resignation and negated the Disillusionment while mentally instructing the Green to cease using his camouflage ability. A very sheepish looking Horatio faded into view, shuffling his feet with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Not precisely. I can see a slight … shimmer. I can tell something is there … but not … not anything that CUTE! Oh, he's adorable! What is … is … is he … Harry! Is this a Minion?"

_And the score is 190 to 10 in favor of Ravenclaw! And their seeker is closing in on the snitch!_ Gnarl laughed. He personally thought the game called quidditch quite idiotic, but he enjoyed using it to tweak the Overlord's nose on occasion. But it was time to dispense with cheek and seriously advise his master. _You really should kill this one immediately, sire. The wench is an unknown … and therefore dangerous!_

"Thank you for bringing him, Harry! I never thought they really existed!" Luna was teary-eyed in her delight. She grabbed the terrified Green and hugged him tightly, spinning him around. "Oh!" Stopping her spin, she held Horatio at arms length. "But this one is _smelly_. Did you bring any other colours? Perhaps a Yellow?"

Harry gaped at the young woman for a moment. Finally collecting his thoughts, "_Gnarl? A 'Yellow'?_

Harry could hear the exasperation in his Minion Master's response. _Don't ask me, sire … I just work here. And it's a Friday._

The quick, mental snort in response could be heard on both ends of the connection. Harry knew that he was merely the latest in a long line of Overlord's, but Gnarl had picked up many strange expressions from his previous masters.

"Um … Bob? Could you come on out here, please?"

Bob had absolutely no desire to enter this strange situation. But master had made a request and master was the center of the little creature's existence. No orders were required of the minion … upon a casual request, Bob would have happily torn out his own throat with his own claws! As he approached – and master nullified the charm on him – Bob wished that ripping out his own throat had been the master's desire. That would have been simple. Whatever was going on was beyond him. And apparently beyond master. Bob's tiny brain threatened to shut down at the prospect, his simple universe having been thrown completely into disarray.

"Er … Bob … this is Luna Lovegood. Luna … this is Bob. He's a Brown."

Harry felt like someone from Emergency Services working a traffic detail who had forgotten his whistle. In theory, he was supposed to have some sort of control. He _was _the Overlord, damnit! At some point "theory" and "reality" had apparently qued up behind different trolleys.

Snatching up Bob, Luna gave him a tight hug and repeated her spin. Completing the movement, she clutched him to one hip like a parent might carry a five-year-old. "Well ... don't just stand out there. Come in and bring any more of your little friends with you. I have plenty of cups." Heading back into the tower, she removed her wand from behind her ear and set it down on a low mantle next to a stuffed penguin as she continued into the kitchen. "Make yourselves comfortable. I'll be out with the service in a jiff."

Sighing, Harry sent out new instructions. _Kneezle ... stay outside and stay quiet. The rest of you ... come on in._ As the rest of the Browns hesitantly slunk in, Harry cast a Finite on them, canceling the charms he had placed on them earlier.

The furniture in the small living area was mismatched but looked comfortable. Not tattered, but definitely broken-in. Odd bric-a-brac covered nearly every available surface. Paintings adorned the walls and – having run out of room – more were leaning against furniture.

Seeing the paintings, the minions gradually lost their confused looks. Gibbering to each other, they started hopping up and down and pointed their favorites out to each other.

Harry sat down on one end of the over-stuffed couch. Idly, he glanced at the uncompleted painting resting on an easel nearby. Dark, shadowy figures clustered around a moonlit grave and were using poles, staves, and pitchforks to attack a hand attempting to break through the earth.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked around at some of the other paintings. Angry shadows hovering in the background seemed to be a common motif. Decapitations were frequently depicted, but there were also eviscerations, impalements, hangings, and various scenes of torture.

_I must say, sire ... she's __**good**__! I especially like the one with the central figure being burned at the stake. Agony and anger almost leap right off the canvas! Perhaps you can get a few to bring back with you; they'd definitely liven up the throne room._

"Could you take that out for me, cutey? I'll be out with the service in a moment."

Bob teetered into the living area with a large tray of biscuits over his head. Seeing his master's amused glare, the minion smiled sheepishly and shrugged before setting the tray down.

As Luna swept in carrying the tea service, she smiled again at her visitor. "I'm so glad you weren't brought back as an inferi, Harry ... they're completely rubbish at conversation." Setting down the tray, she asked, "Milk? Sugar?"

"Yes, thanks. But no sugar for the kids ... they're hyper enough on their own."

While Luna started fixing tea for everyone, Harry glanced over to where her wand lay next to the stuffed animal. "I'm almost afraid to ask, Luna ... but why are you using an old telley as a mantle?"

"Oh ... is that what it is? Daddy picked it up before he died. He thought it would be an interesting conversational piece for whenever we might have company."

"I'm sorry to hear about your father, Luna. I didn't know."

"That's alright, Harry." Handing out the tea cups, Luna settled into a chair across from Harry. Seeing the quizzical expressions on the minions, she slowly sipped her tea while facing them, showing them how to do so. "I'm sure he's happy to be back with mum. He missed her terribly."

They sat in a strangely comfortable silence. Luna smiled indulgently when – upon finishing his tea – one of the Browns started crunching on his cup and another started filching biscuits. Once Bob had finished his tea and was about to start on his own cup and saucer, Luna scooped him up and plunked him down on her lap. Bob started to flail about in surprise, but shuddered and went completely limp as the blond started to scratch in between a wrinkle in his leathery neck. Smiling down at the quivering puddle in her lap, she leaned back and smiled again at Harry.

Harry sighed and shook his head at Bob. The minion's eyes had rolled back in his head and his tongue had lolled out, almost reaching the floor. The amount of drool was simply astounding, but Luna didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

_Despite her artistic talents, sire … she's too dangerous to allow to live. She seems to be able to incapacitate your servants easily._

_Relax, Gnarl. I'm sure a direct order to Bob would snap him out of it. Even if not, she would run out of hands long before I ran out of minions._

_Fine, fine! Why listen to me? I've only been an advisor to more Overlords than …._ The rest of Gnarl's rant faded into an unintelligible series of mumbles.

Relaxing back into the couch, Harry contemplated Luna's fate. She was the only one in the picture that raised any doubt in his mind. Amidst the looks of determination, resignation, or even smug joy on the faces of his "friends," Luna's had been an enigma. Her eyes had been wide in surprise.

Perhaps that was just him, however, seeing what he so desperately wanted to see on the face of _anyone_ who had been at the scene of his death. Her normal expression wasn't really that different from the one in the picture.

He had already decided that if her death were called for, he would make it as swift and painless as possible. A little bit of tea went a long way! He would just pretend to walk around and examine some paintings and then reach out and snap her neck. Taking a sip of tea, he examined her features once again.

_Perhaps I'm being a bit impulsive. She'd make a fine Drone …._

_Welcome back, sire! You were scaring me there for a bit! Better safe than sorry. Just burn out her mind and toss her into the gate. I'm sure she'd look simply marvelous in a cleaning-slave uniform, and I'll have the wench waiting for you in your chambers before –_

_Settle down! It's certainly an option, but I intend to ask her some questions first._ Harry ignored the grumbling that filtered through the link.

"Luna … I hate to ask this but … what do you know about my death?"

The young woman's relaxed smile turned into a frown. She sighed wearily. "I know that it was pre-planned and that pretty much the entire Order of the Phoenix was aware of Dumbledore's scheme."

"Did you – "

"Of course not, Harry! You were – are – my friend!" The hurt on her face was evident. After taking a moment to calm down, she continued, "I can understand why you would feel the need to ask, though. Many things were going on around you of which you were unaware. People you trusted were undeserving of that trust."

"I've since discovered that."

"Ron and Hermione were constantly reporting to Dumbledore about you. Neville and Cho were involved, too. Shortly after the Department of Mysteries, Dumbledore even had the gall to ask me to join his little spying network. It was all intended for your protection and security, insisted the old fraud. Needless to say, I refused. In hindsight, that may have not been the best path to take."

Harry coughed, a bit of his tea having gone down the wrong pipe. "Pardon?"

"Once my position was made clear, I was obviously not going to be invited to any of their 'Let's Kill Harry' meetings. I remained quiet and they obviously felt it would have been more disruptive to their plans to try to separate me from you. Well, that and the fact that they expected the Obliviate to hold longer than it did."

"Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Looking down, Luna silently rubbed Bob's stomach for a moment. Harry could see a tear fall onto the minion's belly as she finally answered without raising her head. "You were my first friend, Harry. And even though _they_ were untrustworthy, you let me be part of your circle. I didn't want to lose that." After wiping a sleeve across her eyes, Luna looked up and stared straight at Harry. "If 'Loony' Lovegood had gone to you and told you that you couldn't trust Ron, Hermione, or Dumbledore … would you have believed me? Would you have remained my friend?"

Harry would have liked to have said "Yes." But they both knew the truth. Not only would he have not believed the girl, he would have become convinced that everyone was right to consider her crazy.

"I knew that they didn't have your best interests in mind and believed that they were planning something, but I did not expect Dumbledore to murder you. When I finally got over the shock, I found myself facing him and the survivors of the Order. As much as I wanted to, I knew that going up against them would have been suicide. So I just left. The Wizarding world and I have made an agreement. I want nothing to do with it and it has nothing to do with me."

This time, the silence between them was less than comfortable. Helping himself to a second cup, Harry decided to change the subject. "So … you've heard of minions but didn't think them real?"

The blonde looked up from the creature in her lap and the dazzling smile returned to her face almost immediately. "Oh, yes! Daddy and I spent years researching both mythical creatures and creatures generally thought to be myths. Scraps of lore exist on minions, but they date back to nearly the time of Merlin! The first records appear about fifty years after he vanished, and then – after around two years – there's never another mention made of them. There's no archeological evidence, no remains … they were reportedly an intelligent species –"

"Be-kehka … ahhhhhhh …" burbled the puddle in Luna's lap. Luna grinned at Bob, then continued.

"—but left no signs of a civilization behind. They seemed to fit no ecological niche, either." With her free hand, Luna flipped up the rags between Bob's quivering legs. "Interesting. Add the lack of obvious reproductive organs into the mix … and we are left with a conundrum. The creature should not exist, but it obviously does. So how did you end up being the Overlord, Harry?"

"BLE-ARCH! Oww!"

"That looked rather painful, Harry. Would you like a tissue for your nose?"

Squeezing his sinuses hard to diminish the pain from the hot tea, Harry shook his head in the negative. "What do you know about Overlords?" he managed.

"Not much, really. But the lore is quite clear: Minions serve and follow the Overlord. There is never one without the other. Without Minions, the Overlord would be just another Dark Lord, I would assume. One minion with you may have been a fluke. More than one, well …."

"And that doesn't bother you? Me being a minion-wielding Dark Lord?" Harry arched and waggled his eyebrows for emphasis, trying but failing to keep the grin from his face.

Luna stuck her tongue out at him. "Of course not, silly. Morality is a matter of perspective and will vary from person to person. I see you as my friend. What do I care about how others might judge you or your actions? You accepted 'Loony Me' all those years ago … why shouldn't I accept 'Overlord Harry' now? Voldemort was a killer who wanted to rule the world. How is Dumbledore any different, really? Voldemort was less of a hypocrite, I think. The Headmaster is just more media-friendly … more socially acceptable. I tried to point that out in the last issue of the _Quibbler_."

Harry frowned. He had missed that! When he had started sending some of his Greens and Blues back in time to scout the intervening years out, _The Daily Prophet_ had been reviewed for information … but he hadn't even thought about the _Quibbler_! "How did that turn out?"

"As I said, it was the last issue. That issue got more attention than any other had. People were outraged. The public offices and all the presses were destroyed in the riot. There were even calls for me to be thrown into Azkaban. I _am_ sad about the paper, though. Aside from my home and the family fortune, it was the only thing I had left of daddy's."

Harry was actually beginning to feel a bit guilty. Apparently, Luna had suffered since his absence for the mere fact of being a real friend. _Well, on top of being a nutter, of course._ "Was that when you had done with the Wizarding world?"

"Yes and no," she answered chewing her lower lip. Harry was not blind to the fact that she looked really cute doing that. "That issue was put out shortly after your funeral. I refused to go … I hope you don't mind. I just couldn't stand the idea of the hypocrisy of Dumbledore and our so-called-friends making speeches about how you were such a hero and valiantly gave your life to defend Wizarding Britain. I'm certain I would've started hexing people."

Harry chuckled, "No worries there, Luna."

Smiling her thanks, Luna continued, "And I wouldn't say it was a complete severing from the magical world. I've sent anonymous anniversary gifts to Ron and Hermione every year."

"What?"

"Oh, yes. The first one was Crookshanks being involved in a spectacularly messy and fatal accident. My potential favorite – it didn't quite work out – was three years ago when I saw Millicent Bulstrode at the Three Broomsticks. I started a dreary 'fellow alumni' chat and slipped an amortentia potion keyed to Ron into her drink when she wasn't looking. I made sure plenty of clues to their rendezvous was sent Hermione's way … but they were either too subtle or she simply refused to see them."

Harry laughed out loud at that one, but then a cold thought shattered his mood. "Um … Luna … you never happened to …."

Luna cocked her head to one side. "What, Harry?"

Harry looked at her innocent expression and decided that there might just be some things he should not try to know. "Nothing, never mind."

"Then, of course, there was Neville. Did you know we actually dated for a bit after the Department of Mysteries?" Seeing Harry shake his head, she continued. "He came here and was all in a huff after the article came out. He was also upset about my absence at your funeral. I wasn't showing 'proper solidarity,' or some such rubbish. I 'should take the party line for the Greater Good.' I never wanted to kill anyone as much as I wanted to kill him right then. But I didn't."

"That's alright, Luna … I understand."

"Yes … that would have been too suspicious. I waited twenty-two days."

Harry coughed and sputtered, his tea having gone down the wrong pipe again. "What?" he wheezed.

Luna looked at her friend as if he were being unusually dense. "I had no intention of being a suspect, so I didn't want to be considered one of the last people to have seen him alive."

"So you just killed him," asked Harry wide-eyed.

"It wasn't that hard. He had developed into a surprisingly decent Wizard, but he was no Dumbledore. I followed him into a loo – putting him off guard – and apologized for not being a fellow traitor. I gave him the impression I was going to kiss him, and when he closed his eyes and pursed his lips, I placed the tip of my wand to his chin and cast a Reducto.

Harry just sat where he was, the tea halfway to his lips and now forgotten.

Luna merely smiled at the incredulous Overlord. "The spray was actually quite beautiful. It inspired a painting I have around here somewhere."

"I … I would have thought that Neville dying like that would have been splashed all over the _Prophet_." _Ouch! Bad choice of words there, Harry._

"I deduced that it would be harder to investigate a murder without a body. After cleaning myself up, I used a Transfiguration on his remains." Smiling, she waved toward the stuffed animal next to her wand. "I enjoy keeping him around. Sometimes when I feel sad, I just look at him sitting there and the sadness just goes away."

Harry was still trying to lift his jaw from his lap when he heard Gnarl's chuckle in his mind. _And you didn't take this one to the Yule Ball … WHY, sire?_

He just couldn't help it. Luna sat across from him looking all sweet and innocent. Neville was over there in his little furry tux just … sitting. And then Gnarl's comment.

Harry exploded into laughter. It was all just so … _surreal_. Luna merely cocked her head to the side, and the minions nervously giggled along with their master, their eyes darting from side-to-side looking like they were ready to run at any moment. They had been warned by the Greens of their master's strange behaviour recently. They had all heard his cold chuckles and the like, but they had never heard such unrestrained mirth come from him before.

"Did I say something amusing, Harry?"

Looking at the young woman, Harry just laughed harder. Once his laughter had died to a slight giggle – which made the minions look even more nervous if at all possible – he shook his head. "No, Luna. I'm laughing at the complete image. And Gnarl making a comment in my head just set me off."

_Sire!_

"You have a Gnarl in your head? Is that anything like a nargle?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." Ignoring Gnarl's mental sputtering, Harry continued, "He's my chief minion. He's back at my tower but stays in mental contact with me when I'm out and about. He wanted to know why I didn't take _you_ to the Yule Ball all those years ago."

"Oh." Looking at a spot slightly above Harry's eyes, she said, "Hello, Gnarl. And the answer to that is easy. We didn't know each other that well then, he was too afraid to ask out Hermione, and Cho Chang has a bum you could bounce a Galleon off of."

As Harry coughed, hiccuped, and sputtered, one of the minions nervously handed him another tissue.

"You really should do something about your drinking problem, Harry."

Harry could only nod as he snatched the tissue from his minion and started dabbing at his chin and shirt. As he cleaned himself up, he smiled when he noticed Luna once again looking for Bob's bits. "Actually, I've come to believe that they're not really alive as we know it."

"Hmm? Oh, the minions. What makes you think that?"

"Somehow the minions, myself, and the tower are all tied together. When something dies – human, animal, magical creature … it doesn't matter – the minions and I can see and handle small … 'globes' of energy that hover around the remains for a brief time. If I take them in hand, they are somehow transferred to the tower. There, a minion is spawned from one of their corresponding hives."

_A most interesting interrogation technique, sire! Tell the girl secrets no Overlord has revealed to another since … well ... EVER! Should I have the Tower Heart wrapped with a ribbon and prepared for delivery to her?_

_Be silent, Gnarl. _Ignoring the outraged minion, Harry continued. "I once thought that there was maybe some 'minion queen' in each hive giving birth to baby minions, but that would make no sense. The hives are too small and new minions pop out fully grown just as fast as I can gather up those globes."

Luna idly tapped her fingers rhythmically on Bob's belly while looking off into the distance. "So you gather up life-energy from the recently deceased and – after the application of some form of magic – create a loyal and obedient servant."

"Pretty much, yes."

Luna giggled. "And you say you aren't a necromancer?"

Harry merely scowled at her. Luna seemed unusually accepting of him, but he decided to see how far she would actually take it. "I must say that I'm sorry to hear about Neville. I was planning on taking out the little bastard myself."

"I'm sorry, too, Harry. If I had known that you were going to return from the dead, I would have left him for you." Cocking her head to the side, she gazed at the penguin for a moment. "His parents are still in long-term care at St. Mungo's …."

The minions relaxed at the evil chuckle coming from their master. THIS sound, they were familiar with! Also, it usually meant that blood-fun times were soon to come. Their silly grins now seemed diabolical and they fairly quivered in anticipation.

"They're catatonic, I believe. But that _should_ mean that they're still in there … somewhere. One of the magics I learned as Overlord is something Gnarl calls an 'Evil Presence' spell. Rubbish name, really – don't start, Gnarl! It's like the Cruciatis, Imperious, and Avada Kedavra spells combined depending on how it is cast. I can use it to make what I call Drones. It's kind of like the subject receiving a Dementor's Kiss, but it leaves the shell able to follow my instructions." Chuckling again, Harry glanced over to Luna's stuffed Neville. "How would you like it, mate, if your parents were no longer bed-ridden? Of course, they'd still be mindless and your father would be working in my mines while your mother is used as a sex slave."

"You have sex slaves, Harry?"

_Whoops! _ "Er … yeah."

Luna looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well … that would make sense, I guess. It's probably a status thing that goes with being an Overlord." Returning her attention to her friend, her expression turned serious. "Do you have mistresses as well?"

Harry couldn't help but blush at the question. He shot a glare to the minions daring them to say anything. "Um … a couple … well, a few … okay, several."

Luna looked even more thoughtful than normal for a moment. "Could I be one?"

Startled, Harry held still for a moment, his gaze once more unconsciously taking in the physical attributes of the lithesome blond before him. "What?"

"I was wondering if you had any openings for another mistress." She was speaking as calmly as others would discuss the weather.

_I would think that there's always openings for more … openings, sire!_

_Hush, Gnarl! And stop giggling … it sounds horrid. _"Luna … I don't think you would –"

"It's the sex, isn't it? There would be lots of sex involved, I assume."

"Well … yeah. That's a big part of it, I guess."

"I can understand your hesitation, then, Harry. Since we've never had sex, you don't know if I'd be any good."

Feeling like he had drifted back into the deep end of the surreal pool, Harry went to take another sip of tea in hopes of settling his nerves.

"We could have sex now, if you'd like, so you could find out for yourself. Or if you'd prefer references, you could contact your necromancer and you could talk to daddy. He thought that my oral wasn't up to mum's, but he said my an—"

"BLESHK! AIEEEEE!"

Luna frowned at her friend. "Stay right there, Harry. I'll go get you a towel. Hmm. I'd never thought that _I'd_ be the one saying that!"

As she left on her quest for a towel, Harry sat panting while waiting for the searing pain in his nostrils to fade. _Bloody Hell, Gnarl. The girl's completely round the bend!_

_Well … she is a female, sire. Isn't that normally the case?_

_No! Well … not like that, anyway!_

_Actually, my lord … I've come to find the girl rather charming. You _should_ have taken her to the ball. You would've gotten a lot more than a kiss out of it, at least._

_True … but that's entirely beside the point! She's a friend … possibly the only one I really had!_

_You're absolutely right, sire. Who would want to be friends with the female they were plowing into a bed while their legs –"_

_Okay! Point taken. Still … she's obviously past loony and deep into the insane field. It would be like I'm taking advantage of a mental case._

_Oh? And which of your mistresses or even you – no offense, sire – would qualify as sane, oh Lord of Blood and Slaughter, Suppressor of Spree, God of the Mumblers, Nightmare of Nordburg, and Corrupter of the Elven Queen?_

…_. Using the titles was a low blow, Gnarl._

Gnarl's chuckle was almost fatherly in tone. _She's a decent looking wench, my lord. You like her. And she's amusing. Take her. If it doesn't work out … well, there's always room for another Drone._

Harry had to nod at Gnarl's logic.

Luna had returned and was patting at his damp shirt and slacks with a fluffy pink towel. Harry glared at the minions again making it quite clear that nothing that had happened would be discussed in the spawning chamber.

"Uh, Luna … I take it that you and your father had a … relationship?"

"Of course, Harry. After my mum died, daddy was completely lost. It was only right for me to fill in for her and take care of him."

"Ever since she died?"

"Well, he resisted for a few days, but he finally realized that I loved him and wanted to help him. I was quite worried about leaving him alone when it was time to go to school, but I returned here every chance I could."

"I'm … er … sorry for my earlier hesitation, Luna. I just found it difficult to accept a change from friend to mistress. It was a generous offer and I accept."

Luna smiled sweetly at the Overlord before her. "Thank you, Harry." Quickly leaning forward, she gave him a peck on the cheek. "Did you want to call the necromancer or did you want to just give it a go here?" Smiling, she began to undo the buttons of her blouse.

"Urm … that's okay, Luna," he rushed while taking her hands in his, stopping her actions. "I don't have any doubts. We can get to that later."

She seemed to pout a bit as she rebuttoned her blouse. "As you wish, Harry." Puzzled, she looked up at him. "Is there some form of etiquette I should follow? Should I call you master?"

Harry smiled. "That's okay, Luna. That won't be necessary."

"Oh." She actually sounded slightly disappointed. "Would it be okay if I called you master, anyway?"

Harry sighed. Not knowing what to say, he simply nodded.

"Goody! Do I get a collar? If you don't have any spares, I have a few upstairs. You might like one of them on me."

With a small groan, Harry waved a hand negligently. "Sure … whatever you want."

_Should I put the rest of the mistresses on 'suicide watch,' master?_

_Very funny, Gnarl._ Harry considered the girl before him for a moment. _Okay, but just a small detail … all Greens and give them the firm understanding that they are not to be seen unless absolutely necessary._ _And you're enjoying this way too much!_

_At my age, sire, living vicariously is almost as much fun as the gnome-stomps of my youth. Ahh, I do so miss those squeaks and pops …._

Regaining her new Lord's attention, Luna asked, "So how long have you been back anyway, Harry?"

Harry smiled. It seemed that they were returning to a sane, friendly conversation. "Only about a week. I spent some time double-checking the information my minions had gathered, though."

"Oh. Are you back for revenge or pleasure?"

Harry gave his new mistress a wolfish grin. "It's one and the same, isn't it? I figured it was time to pay all my old friends a visit … just to give them my regards. Dumbledore will be last, though. I want him shaking in terror in his bed at night. I want him jumping at shadows and knowing that Death is coming to shred his soul."

"That sounds like fun. Can I help?"

"Of course you can, Luna. That's one of the perks of being a mistress."

"It's not in lieu of the sex, is it?"

Sigh. "No. There's still sex."

"Okay. You had me worried for a second. I'm suspecting that you've already paid a visit to some people before me. Perhaps Ron and Hermione?"

"Ron's been taken care of –"

"Oh! Please don't skimp on the details … pretty please?"

Harry sighed again. But Luna was looking at him with eager puppy-eyes. "I started Ron off with your standard physical torture. He broke disappointingly early. I felt that my minions – especially the Blues – deserved a feast for tackling the issues of getting me back to this world. The Time aspect of the trip is still a bit dodgy; they can send minions backwards or forwards, but I could only arrive at the time equivalent to that which has passed for me. The human test subjects have a tendency to explode when moved along the time stream. But anyways – I let them have Ron as the main course for the feast."

"If they're some form of necromantic constructs, why would they need to eat?"

"No needz, mistress! But taste great!" piped in Horatio.

"Yah, yah, mistress! No needz for no filling!" came from Bob.

"Did you get any of Ron, Bob?" asked the smiling Luna.

"Yah, mistress! He tasteted good. Bonez cracked for good marrow!"

Luna scooped the little Brown up into her arms again. "I'm happy for you … and I'm glad he didn't give you a tummy ache, sweetie." She gave him a tight squeeze and he burped happily, remembering the meal. Facing Harry once again she asked, "And Hermione?"

"Well, yeah."

"Did you kill her or marry her?"

"What? Neither! I gave her a bit of psychological torture. I talked about friendship … showed her pictures of Ron and his infidelities … then followed that up with pictures of the torture session followed by the feast."

After rolling her eyes, Luna asked, "And she's now …?"

"Um …." For some reason, Harry felt the need to look down at his feet and shuffle uncomfortably. "She's kind'a … in my dungeon … waiting for more torture … as soon as she gets better, of course …."

"Uh huh. You're going to either kill her or marry her, you know. She's Hermione."

_This 'Hermione' female, master … is there something I should know—?" _

_No._

Gnarl flinched back from his scrying crystal. He had worked with this boy … no, this **Overlord** … for over eight years. In all that time he had never felt that much coldness … that much steel … placed in one thought, one word. The subject was closed; there was no doubt of that! He shivered and returned to the crystal.

Harry felt uncomfortable on the subject of Hermione for some reason. _'Kill her or marry her' … yeah, right!_ His mind searching for any out, he finally found one. "Luna … what happened to Dobby? I've tried calling him several times since I've come back."

Luna's smile instantly disappeared. Quietly, she placed Bob back on the ground. The little creature's face was a mixture of both relief and disappointment.

Luna held out her hand to her Overlord. "Please come with me, master." Confused, Harry took her hand and did so. Luna led him to the door and then outside of the tower. Walking around to the back, she then led him down the hill to the tree line. "I'm truly sorry, master. I had hoped that you had already known …." Raising her arm, Luna pointed to a tiny stone marker almost obscured by the surrounding vegetation … seemingly intentionally.

Reading the words on the simple marker, Harry felt rage building up within him even as his eyes seemed to fill with tears. "What happened?" he asked in a voice which made even the surrounding trees shiver. "And why is there no name?"

"There's no name because I wished to lessen the chance of vandalism, my lord." Seeing her Overlord bristle in fury, Luna rushed forward in her explanation. "You know that he had been injured in the Battle of Hogwarts. He didn't regain consciousness until after you had been killed. When he awoke … he somehow knew that you had been murdered. You should have seen him, master! He was like some kind of avenging angel! He took on Dumbledore and – even wounded as he was – the power unleashed in their fight prevented anyone from coming near, much less interfering. If it weren't for the Elder Wand and Dobby's injuries, there wouldn't be a Dumbledore alive for you to take vengeance on. Even as it stands, Dumbledore is minus an eye and a leg which magic has proven unable to replace. Everyone rushed off to get Dumbledore to medical help. I collected Dobby and brought him to my home."

"And the lack of a name?"

Luna shivered at her master's tone. "Questions were asked. A house-elf had tried to kill the Leader of the Light. They named him traitor and claimed he had been subverted by the Dark Lord and was his vassal."

"Was she –?"

Harry was not given time to complete his sentence. "No, milord … she was not a part of that. My investigations revealed that – unlike the rest – she told Rita Skeeter and others that he had simply gone mad with grief at your death. The _Prophet_ obviously ran the more sensationalized version."

There was no warmth or humor in Harry's chuckle. "Very Slytherin of her. Who knew that Gryffindor's own Ravenclaw had it in her. Not a drop of Hufflepuff to be seen, however."

As Harry knelt before the grave, Luna allowed herself to relax. She had forced herself to be both focused and formal. Her instincts had told her that was the best course to have taken. She watched as her Harry … her Overlord … her master … ignored the tears which fell from his eyes as he started digging with his hands.

_Master … I can get the minions to –._

"No, Gnarl. I'll do this. Hire the best stonemasons in Spree. They and the minions are to build a suitable crypt in the spawning pit chamber. He'll rest in mine until it is completed."

_It shall be done, milord._

Harry continued to dig in silence. Somehow, this had hurt worse than the death of his godfather. Dobby had been such a simple creature, but one completely loyal to him. The house-elf had deserved much better.

Except for the movement of earth, silence reigned at the gravesite. Upon reaching a cloth-wrapped bundle, Harry was surprised to find a necklace of butterbeer caps as he brushed off the last of the earth from the tiny figure. He looked up at his newest mistress.

Luna shrugged. "It was something I treasured. I wanted him to have it."

Harry nodded. "Thank you." Gathering the tiny bundle in one arm, he held Luna with his other as he Apparated to the portal which would take them home.

xXxXxX

A bushy-haired young woman sat in a small cell, hugging her knees while sitting on a cot with her back to the wall. She stared at nothing, her fragmented mind trying to place both itself and the happenings of the past few hours into some kind of comprehensible order. Some portion of her mind registered that this cell was slightly different from those on either side of hers. A pitcher of water and mug were present as well as a chamber pot which appeared to have been recently scrubbed clean. Her cot had clean sheets and a pillow, rather than the dirty and tattered blankets which covered those in the other cells.

She didn't even look up as a figure entered her cell. She couldn't find it within herself to do so.

"Hello, Hermione."

The young brunette made no response.

Harry walked to the bars which formed the wall that faced her. She could hear him place something heavy on the ground and lean it against the bars. She did not look up to determine what it was.

"I went to see Luna today. She's waiting for me upstairs. She never betrayed my friendship. Did you know that she even killed Neville because of what all of you did?"

Walking over to the cell door, Harry took hold of a bar and leaned against it. "She's my newest mistress." Harry snorted in amusement. "Once the rest meet her, I'm sure my headache will last at least a month."

Moving back to stand before his prisoner, Harry gently ran a hand through her hair. "I found out about Dobby. Even though you didn't stand up for him exactly … thank you for not betraying him, too." Leaning down, Harry gently kissed the girl on her forehead. She didn't know if it was her imagination, but Hermione thought she felt a tear fall onto her. "Get some rest. Sleep well. I'll most likely torture you in the morning."

With that, her captor was gone.

She had no conception of time and its passage, so she had no idea when she finally looked up to see what had been placed against the cell wall before her.

It was a simple stone marker with three lines etched upon it.

A Free Elf

A Real Hero

A True Friend

***** Okay … that's it for a bit. Gotta take work seriously for awhile, so it might be a few weeks before anything else gets put up.**

**I'm sure there will be some thoughts of "Is this angst or is this crack?" The answer is yes. I know it drifts from one to the other, but crack'd will definitely follow along with Luna. Once I start with her … I just can't help myself. I know that the shifts in tone are inappropriate for serious fiction. Yup. And? I have a job and it's not being an author. I'm just having fun and trying to entertain. If it doesn't work for y'all, let me know in a review. Since I want to entertain y'all as well, I'll tone it back if the masses request it.**

**By the way … I'm weird. Review … don't review … fine with me. The "fave story" and "fave author" and "story alerts" have been phenomenal. I'm humbled. Thank you.**


	4. Sacrificial Virgins

***** Yada, yada, yadah … ain't mine … yada, yada … no profit … yada, yada … belongs to others and simply a work of fanfiction.**

***** Another quick warning (no, not regarding content): This will probably be the most boring chapter of the story. In the future, I'll try to get away with quick "flashback-like" scenes from the video game with an Evil Harry spin. In the beginning though, I thought that I should cover the beginning of the game with a little more depth for those unfamiliar with Overlord. Imagine a GameFaqs walkthrough with a few jokes and snarky observations thrown in to keep me from going insane. The spells from both games will be available from the beginning … which would really change the dynamics of the first game, though. If yah ain't interested or just get bored, try jumping down to the centered-asterisk-page-break-like-thingee (scratch that ... can't seem to make it work ... try xXxXx). That would be where the first "scene" with a Harry spin occurs.**

**Chapter 4**

**Sacrificial Virgins**

_Seven and a half years ago …._

For the moment life was good. Oh, the new Overlord was proving to be a royal pain, true. The youth was both stubborn and obstinate. He always listened to the aged minion, but nine out of ten times he would promptly ignore his advice.

It had taken several weeks to get him to don his armor … the very symbol of his power! Even after he had finally acquiesced, he had then demanded all kinds of changes to be made to it. Gone were the heavy plates designed to stop the slash of a dwarven axe or to protect the bones beneath from being crumpled by a troll's punch. The new Overlord had made Giblet pare it down to boots, greaves, bracers, and a light cuirass that could deflect a blow but not stop one.

Oi! And the row they had concerning the helmet! At least his master had finally agreed to it. The Overlord simply wasn't the Overlord without the enchantments which made his eyes glow like hellfire. How else were the peasants to know who they were dealing with?

"Excellent, sire … you're doing fine! I'm sure you'll find that hive in no time and bring our boys home." Gnarl never even bothered to look at the scrying crystal. His master had been tramping around in the woods for hours. He was sure to find the thing eventually.

The young master had even rejected the traditional sword, axe, and mace! A short sword and a buckler! Really! Not even one of those mindless peasants in Spree would be frozen in fear to see a figure wielding such weapons charging down upon them. If a troll had the brains of a Brown, it would merely laugh before breaking him in two.

And that old crossbow left behind during the last siege of the castle! What kind of blood-letting could be done by throwing toothpicks at the enemy!

With his re-worked armor and weapons, the new Overlord looked as if he were trying to join that Glorious Empire that was making a big splash on the western side of the continent.

Gnarl lifted his tankard and took another swallow. Bleh! "Tribute" ale … not properly seized as the Overlord's right! That wouldn't stop him from drinking it, of course, but he was against it on principle.

True ... he had to admit that the boy had some talents. His abilities to manipulate manna and control the minions were phenomenal! After only a few months, he had mastered both his Evil Presence and Flame spells … and was even casting those spells with an ease that Gnarl had rarely seen! The other spells in an Overlord's arsenal he had yet to master, but he was still further along in them than some other Overlords had been after years of practice. Why did he insist on calling them by strange names, though? "Dominor" and "Incendio." Portals instead of Gates. The one Portal in the throne room, he insisted on calling a Gate. Gnarl swore the lad was doing it for the sole purpose of pissing him off!

As for his control over the minions … that was just wrong. Effective, but wrong. He could directly control about fifteen of the creatures. That was about normal for the amount of experience he had. But he had designated subleaders and dubbed them "sergeants!" Small groups of minions had been ordered and trained to follow the lead of these sergeants. If that minion attacked something, the group with him would do so as well. If he suddenly retreated, they would retreat. If the lead minion just started smashing things to create chaos or search for plunder, the group would do so as well. Four designated followers seemed to be about the maximum before the system broke down. The groups were sluggish and every once in a while one or two would get distracted and not retreat or switch targets with his leader … but on the whole, it proved very effective.

A force of seventy-five minions was truly a terror to behold!

But minions leading minions? So wrong!

"No luck yet, sire? Perhaps a quick search to the east would bear fruit," Gnarl called out over his shoulder while rubbing his leg. That old injury from his youth was acting up again, making him even crankier than normal. Heart's Blood, how he missed those days of fighting for his masters and running with the pack! The creatures he had bitten and pummeled … the things he had put on his head ….

Ignoring custom completely, this Harry Potter had refused to immediately march out and bring the nearby village of Spree back into his sphere of control! For weeks, he had stayed in the castle practicing his spells, having the minions gather and pen up sheep – as if those frisky fuzzballs couldn't be found everywhere! – and studying old maps of the area. Gnarl had even seen him reading some of the old journals left by earlier deranged Overlords!

He had even gone so far as to have Browns behave like they were Greens and scout out the areas surrounding the tower with orders to report instead of engage. How was all of that supposed to extend his influence? Terrorize the peasants? Acquire gold?

The lowest point had been when he had finally decided to go to Spree. Rather than bash in their gates, overwhelm their pitiful resistance and cow them into submission, he had entered the city alone wearing clothing stolen from washing lines.

Embarrassing.

On his second visit, the new Overlord had stood at the front gate of the village in his ludicrous armour with thirty-five minions behind him and forty hidden in the woods before the gates. Calling out, he had demanded to speak to the village leader, a fat innkeeper from the Ruborian desert lands. After announcing his – the Overlord's – return, he told the innkeeper that he knew of the problems Spree was having with slavers and the nearby halflings stealing their harvest.

He gave them two options. The town could pledge its fealty to him and – as their Lord and Protector – he would defeat the slavers and halflings and return their food and captured citizens. He would also protect them from such attacks in the future.

Or he would defeat them anyway, but keep the slaves and food for himself by right of conquest.

The rabble had accepted the offer in the likely hopes that Gnarl's master would die in the attempt. They probably hoped that with any luck, not only would the new Overlord die, but he might do enough damage to drive one or both groups from the area.

With a promise that he would be a good master or a terrible enemy, the Overlord had left the village in peace.

Gnarl shook his head in disgust. Now what kind of Overlord does that?

Admittedly, the young Overlord then went on to prove his prowess on the field of battle. First, he had attacked the slavers. The slavers themselves had fallen easily to waves of minions, but they had actually acquired the assistance of a troll! As minions clung to its limbs, bashing at the beast with anything handy, the young Overlord calmly walked up to it and used his Evil Presence – excuuuse me … "Dominor" – on the stupid mountain of muscle.

Feeling the energies of the spell wash over it as the Overlord raised his arm, the troll had screamed in pain. Clenching his fist, the young Overlord ripped its will and what little mind it had from its fleshy shell.

Gnarl would never admit that he had been impressed. A few centuries previously, Gnarl had served a master who had successfully dominated a troll, but even though he was exhausted afterward, Harry Potter managed it as an inexperienced youth! And the way he had simply walked up to it … you would think he had been battling trolls since he was a babe!

After freeing the captured people, the new Overlord had sent them on their way back to Spree. With an escort! He didn't even keep any of the more attractive wenches for his own use! Gnarl had shaken his head in shame. What was this Overlord doing?

As the Overlord had approached the halfling village, he somehow sensed a great source of magic nearby affecting his own manna. Following the feeling to an overgrown pumpkin patch, he had located the Tower Heart – a perfectly spherical crystal of smoky gray which is constantly enveloped by swirling blue and white energies. The Heart – which is the true source of the Overlord's power and had been lost since the last Overlord had been defeated – was being used by the halflings as pumpkin fertilizer! Yes … Gnarl had to admit that the pumpkins had grown to enormous size and looked to be quite tasty … but such sacrilege!

Gnarl had been grudgingly happy to see that _this_ Overlord apparently took the security of the Heart seriously. Abandoning his mission against the halflings, he walked the Heart back to where Grubby had set up a Tower Gate. Sending the Tower Heart through, he had even sent back the troll and half his minions with it to stand guard around the crystal until such time as the castle had been re-fortified.

Even with half his forces sent back to the tower, the Overlord had made quick work of the halflings. Those tubby, two-legged little leaches should have known better than to set up ambushes in grassy fields against a master of the Flame Spell! Ahh, how much Gnarl wished he had been there in person. It had been decades since he had smelled the delightful aroma of roasted halfling.

There followed a true massacre, the likes of which would have made any Overlord proud. The only hiccup had been a musician with an enchanted fiddle who had broken Harry's control over his minions. Control had been quickly restored by a bolt to said fiddle player's throat. A grinning Overlord had then made Gnarl promise to stop insulting his choice of weaponry.

The leader of the halflings turned out to be Melvin Underbelly, one of the "heroes" who had killed the previous Overlord and ransacked the tower.

Waddling away like the bloated leech he was, Overlord Harry had been forced to break into Melvin's burrow and destroy the place in search of him. Once they had found his hidey-hole, the fight proved anticlimactic. Using his Evil Presence to its fullest, the Overlord watched the bloated tub of lard fall dead. Hacking his head off required more time than the fight itself.

Gnarl had wondered about the removal of the head. Was this Overlord another one of those trophy takers? The aged minion had hoped that would prove to be the case. It had been much too long since fresh heads had been mounted upon the walls of the castle!

Before leaving the halfling village, the Overlord ordered his minions to ransack the place … to tear down the very walls of the buildings and drag them back for materials with which to rebuild his tower. Weapons, gold, farming implements, forges, rugs … nothing was to be left behind.

By the end of the day, where there once had been a thriving village only a desolate wasteland remained. Only a few bare smoking timbers, broken stone, and piles of rotting corpses gave testament that the halflings had ever existed at all.

That night the villagers had their harvest returned to them. Overlord Potter even gave them a quarter of the gold he had plundered at the slaver camp and halfling village! He warned them that he would be expecting a quarterly tribute as their Lord and Protector and that the gold was to be used to strengthen the town walls and purchase arms and armor in the village's defense. He let it be known that if the purchases were to ever be used against him, he would reclaim them from the cold hands of their corpses.

Seeing by the firelight that the Overlord and his minions were drenched in the blood of halflings and slavers, they quietly agreed. It helped that a number of restless minions were still tugging chunks of flesh from the nooks and crannies of their mish-mash armor to pop into their mouths.

A cheerful muttering quickly spread through the somber crowd after the Overlord offered to hire – at fair wages, no less! – almost every craftsman and able-bodied person to come to the tower in two days to help the minions in rebuilding.

Yes, three-quarters of the plundered treasure was quite a lot … but was the lad mad? This was not how an Overlord behaved! This is not what an Overlord spent his gold on!

Before leaving the village that night, the Overlord had Bob come to the fore dragging a heavy bag behind him. Throwing its contents to the ground, everyone watched as Melvin Underbelly's head rolled to a stop before the innkeeper. Gnarl had rather liked the short speech Overlord Potter followed that up with: "Seven years ago this man opposed me. You allowed him to do so. Some of you may even have given him and his comrades food and shelter. In thanks, he turned on you … threatened you and your children with starvation. Then – as my enemy – he died a horrible death. Remember those lessons."

In the weeks that followed, Gnarl thought he would die of humiliation. Minions and humans worked side-by-side in the reconstruction of the tower. The work went quickly, but Gnarl still got goose bumps knowing that he walked down hallways which had been worked on by free men and women and not slave labor.

During the reconstruction, they had made an unusual discovery, however. While working on the walls of the room which contained the sphere of the Overlord's memories, the scaffolding had collapsed causing a minion and human worker to fall _through_ the sphere! The man's mind had been destroyed, but the minion had jumped up none the worst for wear. When questioned by Gnarl and the Overlord, the minion had revealed that he had seen flashes of images as he had fallen through … images of their master in a strange castle, wearing robes, and often waving a stick of wood about.

The Overlord had fallen into a pensive mood, but Gnarl was ecstatic. Since his master still refused to absorb his memories, perhaps it would be possible for a minion to look into his past for him. He could learn more about his and the previous Overlord's deaths allowing him to know on whom to take out his vengeance!

Gnarl's disappointment with his master grew after he was informed that such would not be necessary. He considered the past done with and had no desire to waste time on pointless vengeance. As if vengeance could ever be pointless!

Gnarl had fallen into a pit of despair over the following weeks. His master spent his time in conferences with the fat innkeeper or with architects reviewing the tower's fortifications. The village had even started calling upon him to handle High Justice while the innkeeper took care of the lesser crimes and started going by the title of mayor.

The Tower Heart … the magics of the Overlord's Tower … had well and truly cocked up. Gnarl had never thought he'd see it in his lifetime. The Dream was over. What kind of legacy was benevolent rule? Gnarl found himself spending more and more time sitting at the edge of Jester's Jump, the open platform at the far end of the throne room which was situated high above the cliff face the tower stood upon. Leaning over, Gnarl had looked down the cliff and was wondering just how much air-time the jester had experienced when the Overlord had booted him off the ledge on that first day.

Yes, the aged minion had pretty much given up all hope. Fortunately, it was then that the Tower Heart's magic had called to him. Something was happening and the Overlord's attention would be needed ….

xXxXxXx

Placing his helmet upon his head, Harry called for a small pack of ten minions and stepped into the small pool on the 'Jester's Jump' side of the throne room. The Gate deposited him at the menhir close to Spree.

_That's "Portal," sire._

_Fine. Minions may call it a Portal, but the Overlord declares it to be a Gate._

_*Sigh*_

_This looks rather … different._

Three people awaited him at the edge of the small clearing. Two of them were there of their own violation and one … not. That assumption being made because the third person was tied to a tree.

Harry crossed his arms. They couldn't see his raised eyebrow because the glamour cast by his helmet made his face appear hidden in shadows with only glowing orbs for eyes visible. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Noticing his arrival, the young woman tied to the tree went from being angry and argumentative with her two captors to staring at the Overlord, silent and pale.

One of the two men looked rather pale himself. He started to tug on the sleeve of the tunic of the other man. "Maybe this –"

The second man brushed his companion off and turned a huge, fake smile towards the Overlord. "Hail, Great One … we are but two humble residents of Spree who have taken it upon ourselves to bring you a gift." Bowing low, he gestured to the restrained female. "A fair maiden of our village that we wish you to have for your … personal enjoyment … with our compliments!"

Harry examined the two men, disliking them immediately. Turning his attention to the young woman who was still gaping at him, he walked up to her and asked in a kind tone which made Gnarl shiver in disgust, "What is your name, girl?"

Finally closing her mouth, she immediately dropped her head downward. "Harriet, me Laird."

The girl was blond, buxom, and rather pretty. But something at the back of his mind nagged at him. Harry thought back to his first day in Spree … when he had spent the entire time listening to gossip and collecting information. Most of the men spoke of the halflings and slavers … but the women and younger men mostly spoke about something else. The younger men followed up with knowing winks to their peers while the women acted offended.

"You wouldn't happen to be 'Haystack Harriet,' perchance?"

She looked up at him, surprise and shock evident on her face. Quickly, she lowered her gaze as she blushed a dark pink. "I 'ave heard that some call me that, Laird."

Harry nodded at the confirmation. Pulling his knife from his belt, he cut through her bonds. Once she was free, he turned away from the confused girl and, chuckling, approached the two men.

"Good one, gents … good one. A grand jest!" With a small laugh, he clapped both men on the shoulder. The fat, oily one started to look nervous and the nervous one looked like he had released his bowels in his trousers.

"I – I don't know what you mean, your Overlordship," stuttered Oily.

"Gifting me with the village ox-cart … no offense, goodwoman."

"Um, none taken … I think, mi—"

Ignoring her, Harry continued, "You have my thanks, goodmen. Rarely do I find people willing to humor me as an equal. Did you two come up with this gentle ribbing on your own?"

"N—no, sah – sah —sire. There were –" began Nervous.

Oily glared at Nervous, shutting him up. "I … I don't understand what you mean, my Lord."

Harry sighed. "That's too bad. But to show my appreciation, I'd like to engage the two of you in a game."

"A … game, Lord?" inquired Oily.

"Yes. An ancient game called 'Tug-of-War.'" Moving away, Harry nodded at his minions. At his mental command to leave their legs intact, the minions tackled the men to the ground and scrambled to grab their arms. "Dislocation is fine. Then pummel them for a bit. But I want them to live … for the moment." The minions snickered and nodded in understanding.

Giggling in excitement, the minions began to play their "game." Harry calmly walked over to the buxom blond as the men started to scream. "I'm sorry about this, my dear. Are you alright?"

Harriet shivered before forcing her gaze away from the torture of the two men. "Aye … thank ye, Laird. I had no part –"

"Calm yourself, Harriet. I knew that someone would eventually test me. I'm just sorry that they involved you." Taking the girl's hand, Harry patted it gently as the volume of the screams increased behind him.

"Well … even though I'd not intended … if ye'd like, Laird –"

Harry chuckled. "Thank you for the generous offer, Harriet. But I presume that I was most likely a selfish child. I don't like the idea of other kids playing with my toys."

Harriet's blush returned. "I'd be willin' te –"

"No."

Embarrassed but happy that the Overlord did not place any blame upon her, Harriet chatted with the armoured figure about inconsequential things while Oiley and Nervous were beaten with sticks and small rocks after their arms had been rendered useless.

"Laird," she eventually asked, "could I ask a favor o' thee."

His smile unseen under his helmet, Harry said, "Certainly, Harriet. What could I do for you?"

"I hear tell that ye got healers among yuir servants. I've gots this Gods-awful itch that the village healers refuse –"

"I'll see what I can do. I've yet to recover my Blues, but as soon as I do … I'll make sure to seek you out."

xXxXxXx

The guards at the gate of Spree stood stunned as Haystack Harriet walked through the gate holding on to the arm of the Overlord. His minions followed behind them dragging two bloody and beaten men that were immediately recognized as being local loudmouths.

The elder guard glanced at the younger and hissed, "Go get the mayor. Now!" As the lad rushed towards the inn, he bowed to the couple and their entourage. "A pleasure to see you, Lord. I hope all is well."

Harry smiled at the guard as his helmet glared. "I'm quite certain that it will be shortly … Reginald, wasn't it?"

The guard started, surprised at the recognition. "Aye, sire. Glad to hear that. If you should need anything while you are here, please let us know."

"My thanks. Nice armor, by the way."

Reginald straightened his back in pride. "Thank you, sire." The breastplate he now wore had been purchased by the funds the Overlord had granted the town. An actual halberd had replaced the pole-with-a-pointed-end and a sword at his side had also been purchased with the same funds.

Harry strolled toward the center of the village as though he hadn't a care in the world, Harriet still clinging to his arm.

The innkeeper/mayor came rushing out of the inn as Harry and Harriet approached. Wiping his hands on his apron, he bowed his head. "Greetings, Lord … is there anything I could do for you?"

"Yes, actually. If you'd please be so kind as to have everyone in the village gather before the inn? I'm afraid that reparations need to be made for a crime."

The mayor paled. He turned to the young guard who had warned him of the Overlord's arrival. "Gather everyone! Don't dally, man!"

While people were being mustered, Harry continued to chat amiably with Harriet. As people started to fill the square before the inn, Harry lifted her hand to his helmet as if for a kiss, then dismissed her with a nod.

"Another time, Laird?" she asked as she moved away.

Harry chuckled. "Perhaps. I'll wait to hear from the Blues, however."

Returning his attention to the gathering throng, Harry waited till it seemed almost everyone had arrived.

After a bit, the mayor spoke. "That looks like everyone, sire. Now, is there something we can help you with?

"Yes, thank you." Turning his attention to the crowd, Harry continued, "People of Spree. Thank you for joining me today. I apologize for drawing you away from your daily tasks, but something has come up which needs to be addressed."

The minions propped up the two bloody figures who were barely conscious as their master continued to speak.

"These two men came to me earlier. I love a good joke. Theirs … was not a good joke. Actually, I considered it an attempted assault on my well being. I'd like the following comedians to come forth …."

Harry recited the names of eight other people which were given to him by the whimpering men earlier.

No one came forward.

Sighing, Harry turned toward the mayor and said in a loud stage-whisper, "I really don't want to have my minions start killing people at random in thirty seconds in hopes we eventually encounter these eight."

After a moment of stunned silence, there was a flurry of activity. The mayor was pointing at people but not as fast as the crowd was shoving people forward.

Shortly, eight people were standing before Harry, all of their faces expressing abject fear.

"Very good. Thank you for your cooperation. Now … I would like the families of these ten men to come forward and stand behind them."

There was another pause but after Harry turned his gaze towards the mayor, the crowd shoved people forward before the rotund innkeeper could even begin to point people out.

"Thank you. These ten men promised me a 'fair maiden.' I now intend to collect. I shall take one 'fair maiden' from each family as a servant. Such was not my desire or intention, but I believe that oaths should be upheld … just as I swore to protect your village and do you no harm. I do wish that the actions of these ten did not require this. You have my apologies and a request that blame be placed where it is due."

The populace stood frozen in shock as Harry walked up and down the crowd behind those he had called forth – those who had sought to foist an "itchy" Harriet upon him – and pointed at the ten most appealing women in the group. The minions moved to grab them as Harry turned back to the mayor. "Thank you for your assistance, and I regret that this action was required. I hope that no such actions will be required in our future."

"I'm … I'm … sure it won't be, milord. Please take our most abject apologies with you."

Nodding at the mayor, Harry then gave a slight bow to the villagers and turned to exit the village.

Gnarl had been shocked into silence. **These **were the actions of an Overlord! Couched in niceties, perhaps … but the response … the veiled threats … perhaps the tower had not cocked up after all!

_Nicely handled, sire._

_Thank you, Gnarl. Now what the Hell am I supposed to do with them!_

_Well, sire … tab A goes into slot B …._

_Toss off! _The Overlord's growl was quite plain, as was Gnarl's chuckle in response.

The next day, the Brown assigned to watch Spree from the woods returned to the tower to give a report. A gallows had been erected upon the walkway over the entry gates. Ten men swung from ropes, never to prank again.

xXxXx

Oh, certainly, even though the lad periodically showed flashes of true Overlordship, he still refused to generally behave the way that he should. The peasants obeyed and feared him, true … but they seemed to obey more out of respect than fear!

Gnarl was tempted to slam his head against the table as though he were a simple Brown. He stopped himself just in time. _No, no … I'm much too old to be doing that anymore._

He hadn't even used any of the cleaning wenches yet! This Harry Potter treated them more like employees than the slaves that they were! Yes, a few previous Overlord's had had more of a taste for their own gender … Heart's Blood, there had even been one who had used any and everything to satisfy his lusts. Even animals!

As far as Gnarl could tell, there was no _LUST_ in the lad! Not for women … not for blood … not for vengeance … and not for gold. He did what he felt was necessary to accomplish his goals and that was it. Whenever Gnarl had seen a glimmer of a true Overlord, it usually stemmed from something that Overlord Potter had considered a betrayal or a dealing in bad faith.

Not having shackled the wenches or given them a taste of the whip, what had he expected from them?

xXxXx

Harry had entered his throne room the following morning to the makings of a massive headache. The ten women he had brought from town the previous day were clustered in the throne room holding or examining small bundles of cloth. One was shouting at his minion master, stomping her feet and waving wildly.

"What's going on here?"

Gnarl turned to speak, but the woman cut him off. "This … this thing expects us to wear these little things around the castle!"

"I gave them the normal garments we've always given cleaning wenches in the past, sire."

"Well, I'm not about to wear it! Even a harlot would have too much dignity to display themselves in this!"

"What's your name?"

"Amelia, sir."

"Walk with me, Amelia." Harry waved for the rest of the women to follow them as he walked over to the platform on the far end of the throne room. Once there, he held out his hands to the girl beside him while the others stood on the far side of the Pool Gate. "Let me see what we are discussing."

Harry took the small, two-piece outfit she held out. "Well, it _is_ rather revealing … and you are correct, Amelia. None of you are harlots." He handed the almost nonexistent outfit back to the woman.

Gnarl was about to groan in dismay when Harry suddenly took hold of Amelia's shoulders, spun her around, and booted her off of the platform. Harry turned back to the other women and waited until Amelia's piercing scream – and the shrieks of the other nine – faded enough for him to be heard. "None of you are harlots. You are my _property_ through the stupidity of ten men. My minions have been told what they can do to you and what they cannot. That is why Amelia did not have her throat ripped out when she challenged Gnarl. Last night you were told to obey my minions as you would me. Grudgingly or not, you agreed. _They_ know their place. I expect all of you to know yours and not give me a headache this early in the morning."

There was stunned silence from both the women and Gnarl. Almost as one, the nine women made a mad scramble to throw off their clothing in an attempt to don their outfits as quickly as possible.

"Stop!" came from the youth standing at the edge of Jester's Jump. Gnarl looked at the Overlord strangely. Was the lad actually blushing? "That won't be necessary. You may return to your chambers and change there. Then return and Gnarl will give you your assigned areas to clean."

In various states of partial undress, the nine remaining women clutched their uniforms to their chests and rushed towards the chambers they had been given.

Gnarl stared at his master.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "What? It was that or put up with all kinds of shite in the future. But it's mostly your fault, Gnarl … were those outfits _really_ necessary?"

xXxXx

One minute, he's an Overlord and Tyrant. For the next fortnight, he's a Just and Benevolent King. Harry Potter was driving his minion master absolutely batty!

But Gnarl didn't let that trouble him for now. For now … life was good. Gingerly, he dipped another of the delicious deep-fried seal nuggets into the bowl of sauce. His eyes rolled up in pleasure. Ah, yes … for right now, life was good.

Sighing, Gnarl leaned back and lifted his feet to another chair at the table. "Hmm," he casually said in the direction of the crystal, "are you sure you covered everything to the south of you, sire?"

A growl of frustration came from the crystal. "There's a damn _chasm_ to the south of me, you git!"

"Well … probably not there, then. How about to the east?"

Removing his helmet, Harry wiped the sweat from his brow. Thinking back to the armor Gnarl had originally expected him to wear, he shook his head in amazement. If he was this hot in his helmet and cuirass, how had the other Overlords managed to wear that ton of metal?

"Bob. Heads up!" Harry casually tossed his helmet over to Bob. The little minion had pretty much become his personal assistant and was never very far from him. The Brown caught his master's helmet but almost dropped the crossbow he was carrying. It took a minute of juggling, but he finally managed to hold on to everything.

Continuing down the overgrown path, Harry saw what looked to be a pair of boots sticking out from behind some bushes further up the way. Drawing his short sword, he directed a command to one of his Browns. Immediately, it and four others approached the boots while the rest of the pack stood at the ready.

The squad poked around the bushes and finally just grabbed the boots and came rushing back. "Dis 'n bludz all der izz, mastah."

Harry looked down at the bloody boots. They were well-crafted but had splashes of fresh blood on them. Also of note were the dismembered legs still wearing them. "Looks like we have some hostiles, Gnarl."

_Erm … what?_ There seemed to be some clattering sounds and the scrape of a chair across the link before Gnarl continued. _Interesting, sire. Those appear thicker and sturdier than what a normal human peasant or traveler would wear. And that was all you found?_

"Behind that particular bush. Perhaps we'll find the rest, elsewhere."

_I wouldn't be overly worried, sire. You have a large pack of minions with you. They could probably dismantle a rock giant in a thrice with only half of them being squished._

Harry rolled his eyes. Why did Gnarl always insist on viewing the minions as being disposable?

_Because we are, sire! Some of us less than others, of course, but we exist to serve the Overlord and will die for you without qualm. How many times do I have to tell you that?_

Shaking his head, Harry instructed his fifteen sergeants to hold back. Browns weren't that bright, the flame-wielding Reds he had recovered from the halfling kitchens weren't much smarter, and all seventy-five of them were definitely not quiet. Slowly, he continued up the path holding his buckler low and to the front.

As Harry continued forward, more signs of conflict were soon evident. A head here … a torso there … and fallen axes and shields littered the ground.

_Those are dwarves, sire! Short, bearded, nasty … and usually drunk. Despite that, they are fine warriors. For so many to be left in such a state … well, be careful, sire!_

"And here I was thinking I could take on _two_ rock giants," Harry quietly hissed. "What the hell is that?"

Off the path before him, Harry could see – as Gnarl could through his scrying crystal – a beautiful white horse kneeling on the ground next to a fallen dwarf. The horse was flecked with red spatters on its muzzle and flanks. Its equine beauty, however, was overshadowed by the magnificent horn which spiraled from its head.

_One of those prancing ponies … wonderful! Be on your guard, master! As ridiculous as they appear, they are deadly opponents. They're carnivorous predators and few things can stand up to a charge from them. According to legends, their only true weakness is that they easily form bonds with maidens of … "unblemished" virtue._

Harry stood there for a moment and watched as the unicorn quietly fed on the intestines of the fallen dwarf it knelt behind. Now that he had gotten closer … there was a feeling deep in his gut that the hive of Greens he was looking for was further along this path. He wasn't about to turn around now.

Concentrating for a moment, Harry sent out instructions to his sergeants to form up along either side of the path before him. He would take on the role of bait … and hope that he was quick enough to dodge the unicorn's charge as his minions attacked it from the sides.

The unicorn did snicker and raise its head once or twice, but it seems that they were far enough away that the minions were able to take up their positions without overly alarming it.

Once everyone was in place, Harry strode forward down the center of the path. "Hey, you!" he yelled out. Not being able to think of anything else, he screamed, "If you wanna gore me with that horn of yours, yah need to treat me to dinner and a movie first!"

Whether or not the creature understood his words, it definitely understood the challenge. Rising to its hooves, the unicorn lunged towards the path. Standing before the Overlord, it lowered its head and obviously prepared to charge.

Harry stared at the beautiful creature in challenge as it stared back at him.

Harry bounced on his heels, prepared to dive to either side. The unicorn quivered, its muscles bunching up and preparing for a devastating charge. Gnarl reached blindly for another seal nugget.

The unicorn snorted. Then, it suddenly seemed to relax completely. Trotting towards a stunned Overlord, it proceeded to rub its muzzle against the side of Harry's face.

"Wot?"

The unicorn licked him.

"Wot?"

The unicorn neighed softly as it gently nuzzled Harry's neck.

"WOT?"

_Urm … sire … I hate to tell you this, but … I would hazard a guess that the legends seem to be at __most _half_ true …._

Ignoring the unicorn which seemed to be completely enamored with him, Harry turned around and looked to the sky above him. "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

xXxXx

Harry sat, tapping his foot impatiently, the tip of his dagger making deeper and deeper grooves in the arm of his chair, as he waited for Gnarl's report. "WELL?" He was back at the tower and in the room which contained his "memory sphere" … and he was not at all happy. Hedwig, as he had named the unicorn, had been ushered to a pen upon his return.

"Please, sire … calm yourself." Gnarl was carefully balancing himself atop the back of a Brown. A pyramid of sorts had been formed by a number of minions and Gnarl was currently precariously balanced at the apex. The dangerously teetering pile was shuffling back and forth before the sphere of their master's memories.

Gnarl's investigations had started with this Overlord's death. With Harry's attention consumed by more important questions, he had merely filed away the knowledge that he had been betrayed and sacrificed by those he had considered friends.

"Ah! Here's something, master." Gnarl pulled his head from where he had peered into the sphere. Jabbing his walking stick into the head of one of those below him, he called out, "A little to the left … NO … _my_ left, you idiot … wait! Right there!"

Gnarl seemed to relax after he shoved his head back into the sphere. "Here we go! Ah, my lord … she's exotic – well done – you are taking her to a formal dance of some sort … ooh, there's a kiss! And … urm … sorry. False alarm."

One arm of the chair that the Overlord sat in splintered under his grip.

"Wait, wait." Gnarl used his walking stick to prod the pile of minions below him into another direction. "This one's promising … strange teeth … but she's everywhere! Give me a moment … looks good … yes …. oh, yes! … this is most definitely it … no doubt whatso—… um … scratch that."

Gnarl winced at the growl emanated by his master.

At Gnarl's direction, the pyramid of minions shuffled back and forth. The master _must_ have had some sort of relations with _some_ female … or anything!

Eventually, Gnarl found himself growing frantic. The slightest hint was enough for him to pipe up with _some_ kind of assurance for his master.

"Aha! Most definitely a … possibility. Your females had long hair, right?"

"Yes … though some males did as well, I think."

_Shite! _"Skirts! Did only the females wear skirts?"

"Pretty much, I think." Harry felt himself becoming uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going.

_Thank the Tower Heart! He couldn't have been sure. _"Urm, red hair … freckles … very … _fetishy_ … oh, yes, sire … she wants you … I can practically see the drool on her chin … this is the one … this is …."

Sighing and preparing for his own demise, Gnarl withdrew his head from the sphere and quietly instructed the minions to return him to the floor of the chamber. Hobbling up to his master in defeat, with a lowered head he muttered, "My apologies, sire. I fear that … that …."

Harry sat there, stunned. These people he did not remember had offered him up as a sacrifice in order to kill someone. He could respect that. He would have no problem doing so himself.

But he … Harry Potter … the Overlord … had been offered up as a _virgin_ sacrifice!

No. That would not do. That would not do at all.

"I will not kill the messenger, Gnarl." Nearby, Bob quickly jotted down a note on some parchment. "But this cannot be allowed to stand. Once I have recovered the Blues … they have two missions. They will spend every waking moment on them. The first will be to find some way to make _that_," he pointed at the sphere which contained his memories, "smaller so that I am comfortable absorbing it. The second is to find a way for me to get back there. Those bastards will pay!"

Harry Potter stiffly stood up. "And they shall not be the only ones." Moving over to the window in the chamber, he looked up into the clear sky. "You want a war, you bint … FINE! I'll give you one!" Without turning his head back, he barked out, "Gnarl! Is there any kind of religious order nearby?"

"Well … there is a temple of the Silent Ones to the northwest … primarily a nunnery, I think."

"Excellent. Perfect! We march on the morrow. Send a minion with the heaviest bag of gold he can carry to Spree. He is to give it to the mayor. Write a letter that it should be used to buy all the salt the village has access to. I want to have it with us at the temple by tomorrow evening at the latest."

Walking back to his chair, he picked it up and threw it against the wall hard enough to turn it to kindling. "Have the cleaning staff in the throne room in ten minutes." Gnarl just stood there staring at his master. After a moment, the Overlord walked over to his minion and lifted him into the air by a firm grip on his robes. "You wanted an Overlord, Gnarl … don't think I'm oblivious to what goes on around me … well now you've got one!"

Upon being released, Gnarl dropped to the floor with a dazed smile on his face. He felt centuries younger. He quickly darted out the door to carry out his master's instructions.

xXxXx

Nine women shivered in a line before the Overlord's throne. Something was up … they could feel it. Never before had they been summoned to the throne room as a group. And never had they seen their master in a state such as he was currently in.

His green eyes were flat and cold as he walked down the line of women. Stopping in front of one, he hissed, "Go to my chambers … now!" Walking down a bit further, he stopped before another servant. "My chambers in one hour." Continuing his march, he paused and backed up to stand before one he had passed. "You be there in two." At the next woman down the line, he paused once again. Taking hold of her by the shoulders, he turned her around and then back. "Two and a half … bring a friend!"

Harry paused, having a strange thought strike him from out of the blue. There was something … something … yes! Potions!

"Gnarl! How many pepper-up potions are in storage?"

Gnarl was so ecstatic he didn't even think of correcting his master's strange terminology. "Plenty for your needs, master, even though we don't have the Blues back yet to make more. I'll have the rejuvenation potions waiting for you at your bedside!"

Harry nodded before continuing down the line.

***** Okay … semi-crack'd. But the unicorn and the Sheriff of Nottingham had been with me since day one. Next chapter gets back to dark and angsty … the torture of a certain bushy-haired female. Till then, search with imaginative keywords and enjoy what's out there. By the by ... I apologize for the formatting. I'm new at this and still trying to figure out what works when uploaded.  
><strong>


	5. The Lights Are On, But

***** Not mine, not … eh … you know the drill**

***** Okay … sorry for the delay, but this was **_**not**_** what I had planned out. After three (scratch that, MANY) tries at dark, angsty torture conversation with a semi-recovered Hermione, Harry either kept coming off as a monster with no Harry in him or as a whiny bitch. I finally gave up and tried a different direction.**

**Chapter 5**

**The Lights Are On, But …**

"Everyone out."

The 'suicide watch' faded into view as they started moving, negating their camouflage. Quickly, the Greens exited the dungeon at their master's command.

Harry placed a covered silver tray down and moved to open the cell door. Leaving it open since his guest really had no where to go, he collected the tray and carried it into the cell. "Good morning, Hermione. I brought you some food … you were more of a 'fruits and toast' breakfast person, weren't you?" Uncovering the tray, Harry revealed a selection of breads, jams, marmalades, muffins, and assorted fruits. "If I was wrong, I can get my cooks to quickly make up some bangers, eggs, or anything else you might like. There's a nutrient potion next to the juice … judging from … well, you know … I'd guess that you hadn't eaten much solid in the past few days."

Hermione seemed confused for a moment then looked up and seemed to notice Harry for the first time. The joy in her smile was unmistakable. Moving to take the tray, she placed it on her large work desk at the center of the Library. "Thank you, Harry. That was very thoughtful of you."

The Overlord watched, confused, as she placed the tray on the small rickety table beside her cell cot. His expression grew even more bewildered as the woman turned back to him and gave him a solid hug. "It's so good to see you again. For some reason, I never expected to." Releasing him, she turned away with a preoccupied expression.

"Urm … what?" he asked while watching her scan the floor of the bare cell.

Hermione sighed at the complete disaster which surrounded her. Almost all the shelves in the enormous chamber had been tipped over and books lay scattered about the floor. Her Library looked as if a cyclone had torn through the place! Glancing absently at a few book covers, she had a portion of her mind trying to organize some system for the best way of returning all the books to their proper place. The method was proving unusually reluctant to come to her, though. "Hm? Oh, the surprised to see you? I'm not really sure, yet. It will come to me … but I have to get all this straightened out, first."

"Sorry … straighten _what_ out?"

"This mess," she said waving around her.

Looking around, Harry saw nothing but a simple cell in his dungeon.

Sighing, Hermione rolled her eyes. "From the look of it, I'm sure that you were somehow involved. You've always seemed to be a magnet for disaster."

Harry rolled his own eyes. "Of course _that_ would stick!" he muttered in exasperation.

Hermione chuckled. "How could it not?" Slowly she stepped over to stroke a bare patch of wood next to her breakfast tray. "It's all in here. It's a miracle that it was not caught up in whatever happened here. Of course, it being chained to the desk and locked closed probably played a major factor." She looked confused for a moment and said in an almost dreamy voice, "I wonder where I put that key, anyway. No matter, I'll probably find it somewhere in this mess, too."

"And what is … _that_ … exactly?"

"Hm? Oh, that's my copy of _Harry: A History_. Pretty much everything is in there … from when I first fell for you to when I helped kill you. Since you're here, I'm pretty sure it needs a sequel, but there'll be time for that later." Reaching down, she grabbed a piece of toast and proceeded to nibble on it while she continued to stare and frown at the bare floor. "Would you like some toast, Harry? It looks like you brought plenty."

Harry sat down on the edge of the cot and leaned back against the bars. Shaking his head, he sighed. Great! Bloody wonderful! It wasn't enough that he had to deal with several mistresses and their renewed power-jockeying after the addition of Luna – and not to mention Luna herself being more of a nutter than all of them put together – but now he had _this_ to deal with! "Wait!" Harry's brain seemed to sputter for a moment. Had she really said … "You 'fell for me'?"

"Come now, Harry … a shy bookworm with no friends is saved by a little boy from a troll more than three times as big as both of us combined. The actual 'crush' didn't come till later, but that rescue definitely made you a leading candidate when the time came." Even though her eyes were unfocused, the coquettish smile as she nibbled on her toast made the blood rush in Harry's veins … in a direction he wasn't quite prepared for this early in his dealings with her.

"I don't get it. Maybe I was doing it wrong, but I was certain that you weren't interested in me! When I had finally gained the courage to ask you to go with me, I thought that my attempts would be obvious to someone as smart as you! But you always either had to be suddenly somewhere else or had to find some way to drag Ron into our conversation." Harry was upset with himself as soon as the words had passed his lips. God, even to him he sounded like some kind of needy bint!

"Oh Harry …" Hermione slowly closed her eyes and her smile became more ethereal. She slowly rocked herself from side to side.

Harry crossed his legs, his discomfort making an immediate spike on the meter. _Maybe I should've delegated this to someone …._

"Actually, I can't blame you for your confusion. By that time I was already keeping an eye on you for Dumbledore 'to make sure you stayed out of harm's way' and felt very guilty about it. Once I got over that, I was … well, 'playing hard to get,' to be honest. I fully intended to let you catch me, but …" her voice turned mournful, "that was before Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore told Ron and I his plan before you arrived that summer."

Harry leaned forward, suddenly attentive, his blood circulation problems forgotten. "And what exactly did he tell you, if I may ask?"

"He told us about Horcruxes … and how you had one in your head. He told us that the only way to defeat Voldemort was for you to die."

"And you just accepted that?" growled Harry.

"Of course not, silly. I looked up everything I could find on them. Sadly, there wasn't that much. Everything pointed to all of Voldemort's Horcruxes having to be destroyed before he could be killed." Hermione started swaying faster, her vacant eyes somehow becoming misty as well.

"Why …" Harry fought to swallow the anger in his voice, "why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione absently dropped the toast which she had been nibbling upon to the floor. Moving to sit on the cot not far from Harry, she stared vacantly at the far wall. "I allowed Dumbledore to convince me not to." Her voice was dull, emotionless. "I let him convince me that you would have been willing to sacrifice yourself to save everyone else … to end Voldemort. Then, I let him convince me that your final days would be happier without that knowledge hanging over your head. That's why I avoided getting any closer to you. That's why I always found a way to dodge your asking me out." She started rocking back and forth, staring at nothing. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"And you expect me to forgive you?" Harry asked, finding himself growling again.

The response from Hermione was as flat and as devoid of emotion as Harry expected from his Drones. "No, Harry. I expect you to hate me."

Harry gritted his teeth. "You expected right!"

Hermione simply continued to rock forward and back. "That's okay. You _should_ hate me. I do," she responded in the same monotone.

Watching Hermione rocking back and forth … hearing those simple words … somehow Harry felt his hot, righteous anger flee him only to be replaced by something sad and cold.

"I'm sorry, too, Hermione."

"Oh? What about?"

"Lots of things. Becoming a person that you wouldn't have felt sorry about killing … about becoming a monster that the younger me would have sacrificed himself to kill … about the fact that no matter how much I care for you, I'm going to do _bad_ things to you."

"Oh." She fell silent as did he … one wallowing in darkness, blood, and guilt … the other wandering about in a void.

"So … what kind of bad things?" she asked as she continued her rocking motion.

"Well … physical torture to start with. Followed up by rape, more than likely. Then probably back to torture. Probably, I'll just start the traditional 'vicious cycle.'"

"Oh. I guess that makes sense. Will torturing me make you happy?" Harry almost thought that he detected an actual inflection of emotion in her voice. But the opposite of the emotion he had expected!

"No. I don't think so. But it will be the only way I'll be able to look at myself in the mirror. I told you that I've become a monster. I just can't let this lay. For what you did to me … I just _have_ to punish you, no matter how much I might wish otherwise."

"Oh. Okay."

Harry felt like pulling his hair out. Standing up, he shouted, "That's it! What's wrong with you, Hermione?"

"What? I don't understand the question." Still rocking forward and back, her gaze remained unfocussed.

"I've just sat here and told you that I was going to torture you! Then, instead of making lo–" cutting himself off, Harry forced himself to take a breath and moderate his tone. "I told you that I was going to rape you. How could you POSSIBLY be 'okay' with it?"

"I trust you, Harry. You said that I deserved it. I know you couldn't lie to me."

Harry just looked at her with the same expression as would have been on Bob's face if he had been told to change a baby's diaper. "What! Where did that come from?"

"It's in the book, Harry. Even though I haven't found the key yet, I know the book backwards and forwards. I should. I wrote it."

Harry let out a soft sigh. What was it about him and nutters? Did he attract them? Did he unconsciously seek out women who had some kind of invisible "train-wreck here" notice stamped on their forehead? "Alright, Hermione. I guess we should go ahead and get started. Would you like to remove your clothing first?"

Hermione cocked her head to one side, reminding Harry of Luna. She didn't seem shocked or offended, just curious. "Why would I, Harry? Weren't we going to start with torture?"

"You've probably never seen what a bullwhip can do. Your clothing will be in tatters before I'm done for today. I just thought that you might want to have your clothing intact so that you can wear it again later."

"Oh. That makes sense. Thank you, Harry." Calmly, Hermione began to remove all of her clothing.

Harry's mouth grew dry as the brunette casually disrobed. He couldn't help but stare as more and more of her soft, unblemished skin was laid bare before his eyes. _I should have definitely deleg—What? Fuck no! What the hell am I thinking?_

xXxXx

_Yup! Delegation. I should really leave more stuff like this to my minions._ Harry was currently sitting on the cot of Hermione's cell. Rocking back and forth, he was currently rubbing small circles on the back of the nude young woman in his lap while making soft cooing sounds in an attempt to comfort her. He felt rather guilty. Not so much that she was clinging tightly to him and weeping into his shoulder as much as it was for the fact that he knew her seat had to be rather uncomfortable. It was rather uncomfortable for him, as well, truth be told. Yes, he had spent the last few hours torturing the girl, but he couldn't really be held responsible for her seating arrangements, could he? His lap _was_ currently filled with naked-Hermione after all!

"Shhh … it's okay. It's okay. It's over for right now. Relax … the pain will pass." The five Blues which had worked on the girl after her and Harry's "session," were highly skilled at repairing damage. They had saved their brethren and even their master on many occasions. They had even taken great care to make sure that no scarring would occur on the female.

Skilled in removing the _pain_ caused by said wounds? Eh … not so much. Once they had completed their assignment, Harry had dismissed them and was once more alone with _her_.

_Crap! Crap, crap, crap!_ _This is definitely NOT what I was intending for today! Why don't the Simple Plans ever work out? "Hermione! Suffer BITCH!" Whip, whip, whip … some time on the rack … maybe explore fun new uses of The Pear … a few pokes with a hot branding iron … and a savage rape ending with a broken and wailing girl on the floor covered in semen and wishing to die …._

Harry sighed. His fantasy woman had somehow managed to wreck his fantasies completely.

"Shh, shh, shh …." Harry felt a tear form as he gently ran his hand through the bushy hair that had been in so many of his dreams. "I'm here. It's alright … it'll all be okay."

Hermione's shudders had shortened over time. Feeling once again capable of speech, she whispered, "I know that, Ha—Harry. You're here. Everything –" *sniff* "—will be okay."

Continuing to rock the girl as if she were an infant in need of sleep, Harry kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Would – would you li—like to rape me now?" she sniffed.

Hermione's seat screamed one thing … Harry wanted to agree. Ninety-nine percent of his being looked down at the nude witch in his lap and slavered at the prospect and screamed "YES!" at the top of its lungs.

The ninety-nine was effortlessly blown to nothingness by the remainder. A soft, quiet "no" from that tiny one percent would not be denied … COULD not be denied. That one percent could move mountains, cross worlds, defy the laws of time itself … even the Overlord himself had no choice but to meekly bow down before its will.

"Maybe tomorrow, Hermione. Get some sleep. I'll check in on you later."

Nodding, she finally seemed to doze off. Harry carefully tucked her into her cot and silently left the dungeon. Motioning for the 'suicide watch' to return to their positions inside, Harry sent them a command. _Keep your eyes on her. Get me or Gnarl if you get confused. Anyone who hurts her, dies painfully. Well, except for me._

xXxXxXx

"I've got to kill someone."

Gnarl looked up from the parchment he was examining. He had never heard the Overlord – well, this one, at least – use that tone before. Something must have gone wrong with his … interview … with the female in the dungeons.

"Very well, sire … do you have any particular preference?"

"No … yes. I don't want it to be anyone I have to really think about. I don't want to plan … I don't want to contemplate … I need to kill."

Once upon a time, Gnarl would have nodded indulgently at such a statement and would have smiled in complete understanding. There was more going on here, however. That kind of statement was completely alien to _this_ Overlord that he had come to know and – grudgingly – respect.

Gnarl opened his mouth several times to offer helpful advice … but not having any, he finally just stared at his master.

Harry stood staring at the watery gate at the end of his throne room. He was actually trembling with pent up energy … with pent up _need._

Gnarl watched as his master's shoulders stiffened then relaxed … and the aged minion relaxed himself. Long ago, the master had paced while coming to decisions. As time went on, the Overlord had reached his decisions faster. Gnarl could tell by the stiffening, then relaxing, of his shoulders that his master was no longer in a quandary.

Harry pulled his helmet down over his head. "Ten Browns … the rest Reds," were the only words he uttered. Staring at the Gate, he informed the Tower Heart where it would be taking him.

xXxXxXx

Luna skipped into the throne room. She was being followed by at least five smitten minions who insisted that they merely sought to protect master's new mistress from the possible dangers of a place unfamiliar to her.

Gnarl shook his head with a sigh. He did have to admit, however, that he appreciated the painting she had gifted to him after her arrival. It was the same one he had admired through the crystal. He had no idea what the title "Ginny on the Stake" meant, but it hung proudly in his private chambers.

"May I help you, Ms. Lovegood?" Even though polite, Gnarl never let the mistresses get a swelled head. They were here to keep the Overlord entertained, keep his plumbing from backing up, and give him a reason to go out and smite things and bring back gold as often as possible.

"I thought I'd go down to the dungeon and visit Hermione for a bit. But I thought that I should ask you for a favor first."

"You may always _ask_, Ms. Lovegood. Just don't be upset if I should decide not to agree to it." Glancing to the fawning minions with contempt, Gnarl sniffed, "Not all of our master's servants are weak-willed."

Luna's eyes grew wide. "I would insist not!" Turning to one of her entourage, she demanded, "You! You'd kill me in a heartbeat if master wished, wouldn't you?"

The Green being addressed blinked and then smiled sheepishly, "Yah, miztress … sorree."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, little darling. You're a good minion. I'm happy that minions like you serve our master." Bending down, she kissed the blushing minion on the head.

Gnarl simply stared at the ethereal blond. "Hoookay … how _might_ I help you, Ms. Lovegood?"

Luna chewed on her lip while she tried to come up with a way to explain her concerns. "Harry-Hermione … it's kind of … a _thing_. I don't know what you're used to, but I can tell you that this will _not_ be it. Give it time. And I think it would be best if the other mistresses were subtly encouraged to not pay her any visits unless accompanied by Harry."

"In other words … actively work in opposition to the possible desires of master's mistresses who might wish to do exactly what you yourself have just stated that you were about to do."

Luna beamed at the minion master. "Got it in one!"

"And why, pray tell, would I favor you in this matter over mistresses who have served our master for years? Hmm?" Gnarl turned his back on the impudent child and returned to the scroll he had been perusing. Arcanium did not seem to be flowing from the mines at the rate it once was … distressing.

Luna stood before the tiny minion, chewing on her thumbnail and not realizing that she had practically been dismissed. "I could let you touch my bum?" she finally tried.

The scroll dropped from Gnarl's hands. Slowly he turned to face the newest mistress, unable to believe what he had just heard. "What?"

With a huge sigh, Luna threw her hands up into the air. "Fine! You greedy thing. A few minutes of light paddling as well … but no scarring! Only the master has that option!"

Gnarl stared at the girl with wide eyes. After a little grunting and groaning, he finally managed to drop to one knee. "As you wish, Mistress Luna."

xXxXx

Smorez blinked rapidly as he found himself in this strange new world. He had heard in the Spawning Pit that his master was taking his hive-mates to a different world on occasion … the World-Which-Spawned-Master. Excited, the Red looked around.

Reds were brighter than Browns but nowhere near as smart as Blues. There was some conflict with Greens in that Reds were probably smarter, but they were nowhere near as cunning as the master's assassins.

"Wherez be us?" asked part of his new crew. Smorez had been recently promoted to sergeant. "No matter," he hissed to the yet to be named youngling. "Weez be wherez mastah wantz us!"

Chastised, the ember-pup fell silent.

Master stood before them. "Ah, St. Roland's … opened to handle long-term patients too numerous for St. Mungo's. Amazing how many were created by the wars. And quietly swept under the rug of Wizarding society by putting it out in the arse end of nowhere."

_Follow me … your team's in reserve, _Smorez heard in his head as he watched other teams of Browns and Reds head in different directions.

Eager to show his loyalty, Smorez lead his team after their master. The Red didn't understand all that was going on, but that was never important. After releasing the other teams of Reds and Browns, Smorez saw that the current hunting grounds were in some sort of old structure set off all by itself with no other human-hives around. By the time his team had followed their master in, all humans capable of coherent thought were rushing about only to be burned to charred husks by his hive-mates. With a sigh, Smorez wished that his team had been assigned that task. Creating Red-Dancy-Which-Hungers was probably that which Reds most relished. But he was a Minion! He would do whatever Master requested of him.

Smorez noticed that Master was not using his personal powers or the magic-stick. As he strode deeper into the building, Master would either backhand one of the humans which wasn't burning and screaming or just run them thru with his sword. Eventually master seemed to reach his destination.

In the center of a large room ten Browns were holding a struggling female in torn and singed robes. One of Browns opened its mouth wide, preparing to take a bite out of the captive's arm. Seeing this, his own sergeant slapped the overzealous Brown in the back of the head.

Seeing his master, the female renewed her struggles. "Who are you?" she shrieked. "Leave these people alone! They're helpless … have mercy!"

Master simply stood there for a moment. After a soft chuckle, he responded, "Someone from your past. No. I know … and no. Now as for your _unasked_ questions: I'm here for _you_ … thank you for being so conscientious about your regular charity work here. These are minions, and they seem to be extremely resistant to magic. The reason you can't Apparate is that my gates seem to disrupt that ability in the area for a short time after their use. And the big one … why? Well, you're going to help me send a message to a mutual friend."

The plump, graying black-haired female with fat cheeks was forced to the ground by eight minions while two started shredding her clothing with their claws. Master paused as he removed his belt. "Now don't get any strange notions of flattering yourself. This is not about lust … it's merely punctuation in the message." Resuming the removal of his clothing, master called out, "Bob … get the axe ready. I'll tell you 'when."'

Smorez sighed. Many of the Browns seemed to be strangely fascinated with human copulation, but he personally had never seen the point. What was the use of the strange battle if neither side seemed to win?

_Smorez._

The Red smiled happily. They were about to Serve!

_I don't want this place collapsing on me while I'm occupied. Take your team and extinguish any fire … which is not actually burning __**on**__ someone._

Shite. Not only were they _not_ to make any Red Dancies … they were to stop them from their meals. Dejected but obedient, he signaled his team to follow him.

xXxXx

"Definitely a resident in Barmy Town." Reaching out, Luna rapped a knuckle against the temple of the girl she had been talking to for the past twenty minutes. "Most definitely and thoroughly fucked."

"What? No. Oww. Maybe tomorrow. Harry said he might rape me tomorrow."

"Who knows what the future may bring? But he won't rape you."

"Oh? He said I deserved it."

"And you do … but he won't do it. Not to you."

"Oh."

"Would you like to have sex with him?"

Luna watched bemused as a girl completely devoid of emotion or expression blushed. _I must really try to capture that on canvas … amazing!_

"He's Harry," was her only verbal response.

Luna softly chuckled as she nodded. Surprised at the softness in her own voice, she said, "Then tell him."

"I … I don't know. I have so much cleaning and organizing to do first."

Luna had figured out the nature of Hermione's mindscape in the first few minutes of their talk. She may have been loony herself, but she _was_ a Ravenclaw. "Prioritize, girl. The most important thing in any reorganization. I'll help if you'd like."

"Please do. I know you're Harry's friend. You went with us to the Department of Mysteries. You want to help him, too."

"Yes, I do. Start with your skills. Clinical knowledge. The textbooks should stand out in the piles. They should be easy to put back in their proper place."

"That sounds logical."

"Yes, it is. I know that it will be tough. I also know what relaxes you more than anything. I have some books I brought with me … I'll bring them to you. Don't drive yourself barmier in your determination to get everything done immediately. Take breaks and just read and relax. You _will_ reorganize your Library. Harry is not going anywhere. Do you read French?"

"Yes … I believe so."

"Good. Some of my books are in French. They're so much better in the original."

Luna left while Hermione started searching through the piles. Looking for textbooks, she started to carefully reshelf them in their proper locations. She was pleased to find that a couple of French language texts were among them.

It wasn't that long before Luna returned with a small pile of books in her arms. Hopping onto the cot next to Hermione, she started to hand them to her. "This one is one of my personal favorites … _Histoire d'O_ by Pauline Reage. Just a pen name, of course, but it's an original edition." Handing over more, she continued, "These are by Donatien Alphonse Francois … some of them are a bit on the dry side, but _Justine_ is not too bad. Once you finish these, just let me know. I also have a fourteenth century edition of the _Kama Shastra_ … the lithographs are simply amazing."

Hermione cradled the books in her arms. "Thank you, Luna."

Luna smiled and kissed the bushy-haired young woman on the forehead. "You're welcome, Hermione."


	6. Postal Notes, Pets, and Planning

***** I lay undisputed claim to my own insanity (much to the relief of my parents). The elements in the tale which follow which are not an original part of said insanity (anything relating to Harry Potter presented in literature and film and Florida theme parks), are owned by others and no profit is being made on this shameless manipulation of said characters and settings … damnit.**

***** I'm still planning on getting where I intended. The disposal of the roadmap required by the change in Hermione's situation/condition, may mean that the trip will be a bit slower. Having taken that left turn at Albuquerque, I'm gonna be just as surprised as everyone else in where the chapters go for a while. **

***** Repetitive disclaimer: Evil Harry … slaves … mistresses … torture … death and dismemberment … non-consensual sex … bad puns and twisted humor. If any of this would bother you, you're reading the wrong story. Speaking of story ….**

**Chapter 6**

**Postal Notes, Pets, and Planning**

"Oww."

"Are you okay, Harry? Should I call for a Blue or two?"

"No, no … I'm okay." His head and upper shoulders were currently hanging off the side of his bed. Once again, he tried to raise himself up. "Oww!" He allowed himself to collapse again. "Maybe just one. I think my spine is broken."

Luna giggled. "Doubtful. Out of alignment a bit, maybe. But I very much doubt that anything is broken."

"Says you, you … you minx."

Puzzlement was evident in Luna's voice. "A 'mink'?"

"No. Minx! Minx!"

"Thank you, Harry. I think. Does that mean I get the job?"

Harry sighed. "Consider your application for mistress as accepted and the position secured. But not that tenth one … or was it the eighth position? That one … never again!"

There was another soft giggle in response. "I did warn you that some stretches and limbering exercises would have been a good idea, first."

Harry merely groaned. "Maybe I should get you and Velvet together and – scratch that! I'd never survive. Make a mental note … you two are _never_ to be in my bed at the same time!"

"Well … you wouldn't have to be in the bed, too. You _could_ just watch."

The mental image created of Luna putting on a show with his other most … _imaginative_ … mistress immediately changed the direction of his blood flow. Harry's body tried to snap upwards to follow the flow, and he immediately regretted it.

"Arrghh! Yes, send in two Blues. Better make it five."

"Get up here, Harry … I want to talk to you for a minute." Taking hold of her Overlord's arm, Luna tugged and pulled as he grunted and whined at the pain shooting through his body. Once he was properly oriented on the bed, she allowed him to pant for a few moments until he seemed semi-recovered. "I want to talk about Hermione."

Harry's body immediately stiffened. Seeing his reaction, Luna laid her hand upon his cheek. "Nothing bad, Harry … I just want to help her and thus help you."

Harry allowed himself to partially relax. Unlike his other mistresses, Luna was someone he felt he could open up to with his concerns for his prisoner. "I … I don't know what to do about her, Luna. I talked to her the other day before heading to England. I don't really know what I wanted … what I expected … but that wasn't _her_. That wasn't the Hermione I know. She's … she's …."

"She's broken. Yes, I know. I went and talked to her myself. She's retreated into the core of her mind – a Library, as if that would surprise anybody – and everything's a shambles. You pushed her over the edge with Ron."

Seeing the expression forming on Harry's face, Luna gave him a light slap with the hand at his cheek. "It's not your fault. You don't still think balderdash like that, do you? Hermione's strong. She would've taken all that, got back up, and spit in your eye … normally. She was close to the edge already, I think. You've been eating away at her for years."

"What? I don't understand."

Luna shrugged and stroke Harry's cheek. "Guilt is a powerful force. The guilt she felt over you … I'm surprised she didn't crack years ago."

"I won't say that I'm not glad that she felt guilty, but how does that lead from there to here?"

"You're still not getting it, are you? You're seeing it at the completely wrong level. Think about it. Her sense of self was shattered. Her mind took on enough that her very identity crumbled. What was the _one_ thing she clinged to? What 'book' was secured so well – was so precious to her – that it managed to survive her mind fragmenting? _Harry: A History_."

Harry looked at the blond, his confusion evident. "She mentioned that before. I don't get it … what's so important about that book?"

Thumping her head against a pillow, Luna just shook her head for a moment. "It's not a book, dunderhead! It's a collection of every memory she's ever had relating to you and her. Every moment you've spent together, every thought concerning you that ever ran through her mind. Every observation and guess she's made concerning you and her." Luna decided to choose her next words carefully. The dunce would get it eventually, but there was no need to scare him.

"She knows that you are very important to her … and that you feel the same towards her. Now 'Knowing' and 'Feeling' are different. She also knows that she betrayed you and needs to make up for that in anyway that she can. She just felt that she could never do so since you were dead. Now, that guilt was just piled atop everything else in her life. Add to that the fact that her seeing you alive again was probably among her last rational moments."

"I kind of get what you mean … but the way she's acting …."

"She can read the print. She knows it to be true beyond a doubt because she wrote it herself. At the moment, the words are just letters on a page. Since the rest of her mind is a shambles, she doesn't yet know how to associate the 'feelings' of an emotion to the emotions themselves. The definitions are there, but until more of her mindscape is back in order, she can only assign definitions to the words."

"So she'll get better, then? Go back to her old self, eventually?"

Luna hated to crush the glimmer of hope in his eyes. "There's no way to tell, Harry. Maybe, but maybe not. She's working on it, but there's no telling how long it'll take. Also, it's highly unlikely that her 'mental books' will be back in the exact same order that they were before."

"I don't get you."

"Knowledge and experience come in the order that you live them. That's why the formative years are so important in our development and determine who we will become in the future. Some re-indexing, to use Hermione's mental analogy, may come later … but I'm guessing that that's all gone in her case. Her books may end up shelved in a different hierarchy of importance than they were before … making her a different person." Luna neglected to add that she was counting on it.

"So what do I do?"

"There's not much you can do, I'm afraid. At the moment, she's just a few steps ahead of one of your Drones, as you call them. I actually ran into one in the tower the other night … _tres_ kinky, Harry!"

Harry squirmed and blushed. "Ah … you must have met _that_ one. She pissed me off a year or two ago back in Nordberg … and the costume looks good on her."

Luna merely smiled and shook her head. "Boys and their toys …. So, have you had sex with Hermione yet?"

"What! No! Where did that come from?"

Tilting her head to the side, Luna just stared at him with wide eyes. "Are you telling me that you _don't_ want to have sex with Hermione?"

"No! Yes! Urm … no! I'm not about to rape her, for God's sake!"

"I didn't ask if you wanted to rape her, Harry. I asked if you wanted to have sex with her."

Harry sighed. If this was Luna's idea of post-coital conversation, he would definitely always make sure that – in the future – he would urgently be needed elsewhere afterwards! "It would be the same thing."

"Consensual sex is not rape, Harry. Ask her if she would like to … I'm sure the answer to that is in her book of you somewhere. There might not be any emotional connection on her side for a while, but you would have an answer. I'm sure that you've been beating yourself on the subject and it's certain to be a load off your … mind, shall we say."

Harry couldn't help but remember the feel of her in his arms. Hermione curled up in his lap, holding onto him …. "Maybe. I'll think about it."

"So is she, Harry. I guarantee it. Until her mental Library is in order, you're about all she _can_ think about. By the way … you should make sure the other mistresses don't see her without you present. I'm sure that they are all great sexual outlets for you, but I don't know enough about them to know how they might treat Hermione if you aren't there."

Harry was about to deny that there might be any problems, but quickly changed his mind. Rose might be a problem. She still served him well, but she had never taken well to her downgrade from "Only Mistress" to "First Mistress" after Harry's acquiring of her sister, Velvet. It had slowly gotten worse with each mistress he had added. She'd never openly defy his wishes, but he had better make his position on Hermione quite clear.

"That might be for the best." Harry squeaked in pain as he tried to turn to face Luna. "But first … go call for some Blues!"

xXxXx

"Are you sure you wouldn't like one, Minerva? A most marvelous muggle invention … chocolate _and_ peanut butter in the same confection!"

"Thank you, Albus, but no. We really must finish this … the school notices will be going out tomorrow."

"Yes, yes … you're right, of course." Idly, Albus Dumbledore scratched at the patch over his left eye. The kitten on the purple fabric looked to be batting at his finger as if it were a ball of string. Looking across to the old witch before him, he frowned … Minerva seemed to have aged twenty years in the past ten. Harry's sacrifice followed by the strange disappearance of Neville Longbottom had hit her hard. Even though she was a staunch supporter of the Light, she had always had trouble putting things in the proper perspective. While he, himself, needed to keep the big picture in mind, Minerva had always allowed herself to get caught up in the small details. Well, no matter … that is what had always made her such a fine assistant and administrator.

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall looked up from the parchments in her hand and began, "As for the Slytherin Prefect, I don't think –"

They were interrupted by a tawny owl sweeping in through the open window. Both were surprised in that most owls did not arrive till later in the day and special deliveries were rather rare. A medium-sized box with a letter attached was dropped onto the desk before Dumbledore. Curious, he opened the envelope to find a muggle greeting card within. It had a tiny cupid on the cover aiming at a man and woman who were looking in different directions. Circling them at their feet was a veritable forest of tiny little arrows which had missed their mark. Understanding the reference, a tiny smile began to form on Dumbledore's face. Opening the card, on the left in large letters was the message "I've Been Missing You!"

On the right was a brief handwritten note:

_Albus, my old friend …._

_I've only recently returned to England and can't wait to see you again!_

_I ran into a mutual friend last night. To say that she was surprised to see me was an understatement. By the time we were halfway through our conversation, she had completely lost her head and there was simply no talking to her after that!_

_I just wanted you to know that I'll be dropping by to say hello as soon as I can fit it into my schedule. Accompanying this letter should be a little gift to let you know exactly how much you mean to me._

"What is it, Albus?"

"A muggle 'missing you' card." Turning it around in his hands, he frowned. "Strange … it isn't signed. Perhaps there's something in the box?"

McGonagall raised an eyebrow in query. After Dumbledore nodded, she untied the string and opened the box. Lifting the top, she peered in.

"Jesus, Joseph, and Mary," she whispered turning white as a ghost.

"I haven't heard that expression in quite a while," Dumbledore chuckled. "What is it, Minerva?" Getting no response from the unmoving professor, Dumbledore stood up so he could look inside himself.

From inside the box, the head of Hestia Jones stared back at him.

xXxXx

"Hello, Hermione."

"Hello, Harry." Placing a marker in the book she had been reading, she carefully laid it to the side. Harry noted that the title looked to be in French.

"What are you reading?"

"It's a book Luna loaned me. It's called _Histoire de Juliette ou les Prospérités du vice_. It's very interesting."

Harry shrugged. Probably some French romance novel, he surmised. _Romeo and Juliet _in French? No matter … maybe it might help her make those mental/emotional connections Luna had been talking about. "That's very nice, Hermione. You should keep reading it. Maybe it will be therapeutic."

"Okay, Harry." Hermione merely sat on the cell cot, her hands folded in her lap. Her face was pointed in Harry's direction, but she didn't seem to be looking _at_ him. It was more like she was looking at a spot a meter or three beyond his head. "Have you come to rape me?"

"What?" Harry jumped back, startled. "No!"

"Oh. I thought you said –"

"Yeah. I know. Forget that! Just wipe that from your mind."

"Okay."

Harry stared at her for a moment. _Did she just actually …? I really don't want to know._ "I was talking to Luna earlier about … things. I thought I should … that it might be a good idea … maybe check with you …." Sighing, Harry dropped himself to sit heavily on the cot next to Hermione. "Bollocks."

The two surviving members of the Golden Trio just sat there in silence. Strangely enough, the silence was finally broken by Hermione. "Would you like to have sex with me, Harry?"

Harry slowly turned his head to stare at her as if she had grown a second head. The question had been devoid of emotion and so was the face currently looking _almost_ at him. "Urm … Hermione … you're a beautiful woman … and you're … _Hermione_. Of course I would! But that's not important."

"It's not?"

"No. What's important is how _you_ would feel about it … whether _you'd_ want to or not."

"Oh. Okay. I'd like to have sex with you."

Leaping up off the cot, Harry began to pace the cell. Immediately realizing that it was perhaps not the best of ideas, he sat back down and quickly crossed his legs.

"Hermione," he began while shifting a bit to make his current condition less obvious, "in your current state … how could you _possibly_ think that?"

"Think that, Harry? I know that. It's right there in –"

"Yeah. _Harry: A History_! I get it! But what about … what about Ron? What I did to him?"

Puzzled, Hermione tilted her head to the side. Quickly, she scanned the index inside her book. "Ron was our friend. Once I knew that you were going to die, I dated him so I wouldn't have to keep dodging your advances. Becoming your girlfriend and then seeing you die would have been too painful."

Harry rubbed at his right eye. There was a strange burning sensation building up about two centimeters behind it. "What about afterwards?"

"Afterwards, Harry?" She seemed to scan the floor before them. "I don't know. I don't seem to have gotten there yet."

"You married him."

"I did? That seems silly. Why would I do that?"

"Beats me! Then I killed him."

"Oh. Why would you do that?"

"Because he married you, for one," Harry muttered, not realizing she had heard him. "He only pretended to be my friend … he betrayed me and was a party to my death … he cheated on you without your knowledge …. Lots of reasons."

"Okay."

Harry jerked his head up, blinking, convinced that the ball of pain behind his eye had just doubled in size. "Uh?"

"You said you had reason to kill Ron. I know you wouldn't lie to me."

"Why on earth would you … _right_ … the 'book'." Shaking his head in bewilderment and resignation, Harry sighed. "I'm not going to lie to you, Hermione. I would very much like to have you in my bed. Hells! On the floor, on my throne, in the hall, on the carpet by the door …. I would much prefer it, however, with you as a … well, with you being whole and mentally healthy."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm trying to get there. There's so many books … so much to straighten back up. Does that mean we aren't going to have sex?"

Not knowing what to say, Harry took hold of her hand and slowly pulled her into his lap. Unresisting, she curled up as she settled in, wrapped her arms around him and settled her head into the crook of his neck. Harry didn't know if it was his imagination, but he could have sworn that he heard a contented sigh as he raised a hand to stroke her hair. Leaning back, Harry allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of having her in his arms.

Somewhere deep in his subconscious, a challenge was made. The ninety-nine awaited an answer from the one.

Stroking Hermione's hair, Harry allowed his thoughts to drift.

xXxXx

Gawain Robards walked toward the floo dreading the meeting that was to come. It seemed every day he regretted taking this job. He was an Auror, damnit … and a bloody good one, he'd like to think! He was not a politician, nor was he a bloody bureaucrat. He absolutely detested that he was now required to be both.

If Shacklebolt wanted to play dress-up and dance with all these poofters, why couldn't he have been satisfied with being the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Not enough bloody party invitations for his taste? Gawain snorted to himself. _I guess the bloody bastard figured he already had the dress, so he might as well have the parties to wear it to! _No … Shacklebolt had to go and be the bloody Minister of Magic and leave every bloody incompetent twit in Wizarding England trying to head the DMLE!

That's the only reason Gawain had taken the job. He hated the paperwork … he hated the politicking … but more than anything else, he hated the bloody incompetents that might have gotten the job if he hadn't accepted. He was certain that Shacklebolt – that bloody bastard, may he rot in hell – had been laughing on the inside when he had recommended Gawain for the job.

He hated all the crap that didn't involve enforcing the law and keeping people safe. And to top everything off, his own bloody solution to the majority of his problems had up and disappeared on him!

The next time he saw that Ruddy Ginger Bastard, he'd tear his arse a new one! Why would any politician looking for a photo-op bother Gawain if they could be seen with the bloody Hero of Hogwarts!

Robards shook his head in disgust. Having talked to the little prat, he was certain the obnoxious bastard had been hiding in the girl's loo the entire time of the battle!

_Why did you have to go and let that wanker take ya down, "Madam Stones"? Everything's __higgledy-piggledy as feck down here without you. We really miss you, mum. And I'd really wish you'd be the one meetin' with this tosser rather than me. Personally, I never could stand the holier-than-thou, pompous git._

Sighing, Gawain grabbed a handful of floo powder from his assistant and plastered on his trade-marked pained-grimace-attempting-to-masquerade-as-a-smile-and-not-constipation and said clearly, "Hogwart's, Dumbledore's office."

Stepping out of the green flames, Gawain moved aside to make room for the two Aurors who were following behind him. He missed a step and his grimace-smile faltered as he saw the other person waiting in the office along with Dumbledore.

_Bloody hell … as if the day weren't pear-shaped enough all ready!_ "Minister Shacklebolt. A pleasure as always, sir!"

Despite his grim mood, Kingsley couldn't help but allow a small smile to form as he nodded to the new arrival. He actually liked Robards and believed that if Gawain could learn to hide his distaste of politicians he might become another Amelia Bones one day. "Morning, Robards. Glad -"

"Yes, Mr. Robards. Kingsley and I were just discussing the situation. I'm pleased that you were able to respond so promptly."

Robards managed to maintain his concealed grimace, but failed to prevent the twitch in his left cheek. "Well, we clamped a lid down as quickly as we could to give us a clear field to investigate in. It missed the morning edition, but I'm sure the _Prophet_ will rectify that quickly enough."

Dumbledore scratched at his eye patch. "I don't see how they would know about this already. As soon as Minerva and I saw what was in the package, I fire-called Kingsley and your office."

Wrinkling his brow, Robards didn't even notice his two Aurors coming in through the floo. _And stop with the patch, you sympathy-seeking meddlesome old codger! Everyone knows you fought at the Battle of Hogwarts! _"Package … what package? I came here to ask you about St. Roland's."

"St. Roland's? We thought you were here to discuss the decapitated head which the Headmaster received by post this morning." This time, Dumbledore did not interrupt the Minister of Magic.

_Blimey! Definitely pear-shaped!_ "Do you have any idea as to the identity of the deceased?"

"Yes, we do," came from Dumbledore. "She was an old friend of ours … a Ms. Hestia Jones."

"She was the one unaccounted for, then," Robards sighed. "Did something come with it? Another death threat?"

"Another?" asked Minister Shacklebolt.

Robards opened up his briefcase. "This morning it was reported by the arriving shift at St. Roland's … well, see for yourself." He pulled out a magical photo of what had been found on the grounds in front of the old mansion. "A death threat against the Headmaster is our current working theory."

In the photo could be seen a number of charred corpses. The bodies had been arranged so as to spell out in large letters "Albus."

"This is a copy of the note that was found pinned to one of the bodies." Before them, Robard placed another item pulled from his briefcase.

_My apologies for the collateral damage._

_I had planned on spelling out my own name, _

_but there wasn't quite enough to go around._

_Perhaps next time I'll just write smaller._

_See you soon._

_Hugs and kisses,_

_The Overlord._

XxxXx

After throwing on a robe and carefully making certain that it was not closed all the way, Luna left her private chambers and strolled down to the throne room in her bare feet. She had waited up for Harry, but after he had spent several hours in the dungeon, she had decided to go on to bed. She did so hope that those two had worked _something_ out.

_I never realized that match-making could prove so bloody difficult. Especially between __**those**__ two! Good Lord! Didn't those two twits realize they were meant for each other?_

Upon entering the throne room, Luna's eyebrows shot up in surprise. _Well … this was certainly unexpected! There were at least five scenarios with a much higher level of probability._

Harry sat upon his throne talking to Gnarl. The aged minion would periodically raise his head and shrug before returning his attention to the parchment in his claws. Hermione was kneeling at Harry's feet with her head laid upon his thigh. A small leather collar could be seen around her neck. Often, Harry would reach down and stroke her hair.

Luna glided up to sit on the armrest of the throne, arranging her torso to ensure Harry a good view into her open robe. "Good morning, master," she chirped.

"Good morning, Luna." Harry blushed slightly but was thankful for the excuse not to have to look up into her eyes.

"Good morning to you, too, Hermione. I'm glad to see you up and about."

"Good morning, Luna," came the automatic, flat response.

"So!" Luna bounced as she clapped her hands. "Anything new today?"

"Well … ."

"We had sex. For hours."

Harry coughed and blushed furiously. "I think she was talking to me, Hermione."

"Oh."

Luna smiled at her master's discomfort.

"We basically agreed to change the nature of our … relationship. In her current condition, there's no real point in keeping her prisoner or torturing her."

"You can still torture me if you'd like, Harry."

"Thank you, Hermione … I'll keep that in mind." Stroking her hair again, Harry looked back to Luna. "I still have the need to revenge myself upon her, but I figure humiliation would satisfy me just as well."

Luna cocked her head to the side. "Wouldn't it make more sense if she were nude, then?"

"Baby steps, Luna. Baby steps."

"So what are you planning to do today, Harry?"

Running a finger down Hermione's cheek, Harry let out a low chuckle. "What I plan to do everyday, Luna … plot to bring holy hell down upon Albus Wulfric Dumbledore. How would you like to join me on a trip to Gringotts? I think I'd like to see about buying some property."

"Okay, Harry."

"Not you, Hermione. I'm afraid you're staying here for now."

"Oh."

***** If anyone's curious as to the lack of clues on last chapter's victim, I don't know much about her aside from black hair and pink cheeks (from lexicon, wiki, and imdb – she **_**has**_** been developed into a three dimensional character in other fanfiction, however). That's why she was chosen, based on Harry's mood at the time.**


	7. Nouveau Nobility Meets Royal Pain

***** Not *whimper* mine. Not *sniffle* for profit. WAAHH! I want a movie studio to give me a bracelet with 40 huge diamonds!**

***** Last chapter we had (in order) Bugs Bunny, American Idol, Marquis de Sade, I'm Fucking Matt Damon, and Pinky and the Brain. With assorted weirdness mixed in, of course. I tried Judy Collins doing Stephen Sondheim, but that didn't work out so I dumped it. Having not seen a review with "*GROAN*" in it, I'm gonna assume it's okay to continue in such a manner.**

**Chapter 7**

**Nouveau Nobility Meets Royal Pain**

"I'm not sure whether to be disappointed or not." Harry snapped his newspaper closed and set it down upon the table.

"Disappointed at what?" asked Luna while she licked her ice cream cone in the most suggestive manner possible.

Harry grinned at her antics. It grew to a chuckle as a male passerby walked straight into a lamppost, much to the displeasure of the female who was walking with him.

"_The Daily Prophet_ finally picked up the story on St. Roland's – which reminds me, we should pay our respects to the Longbottoms on the way home – but made no mention of any note left at the scene. I hope the Aurors found it."

"What was so special about it?" As she awaited an answer, Luna critically eyed her work on Harry. She had cast a few minor cosmetic glamours on Harry before their arrival in Diagon Alley. His hair was now shoulder length, a tiny mustache rested upon his upper lip, and his hair was a blond shade similar to her own locks.

"Mostly the fact that it was signed with 'hugs and kisses.' The rest of it was just your everyday, generic psychotic drivel."

Ceasing her oral stimulation of the frozen treat in her hand, Luna cocked her head at her companion. "And what, pray tell, was the significance of that?"

Harry chuckled. "A little idea I was toying with …. If someone were coming after you, who would be more _frightening_? A cold, methodical planner … or an unpredictable, deranged maniac?"

Luna blinked once, then _swished and flicked_ her tongue in such a way that Harry was surprised that the scoop of ice cream didn't levitate right off of the cone. "Hmm … even though the latter would possibly be more frightening, the former might be more effective in the end."

Harry smirked evilly. "Okay, I grant you that. But what about a schemer who is _believed_ to be a deranged maniac?"

"That would be somewhat frightening, I admit. But where do you intend to find some methodical schemer," she innocently asked.

"Har-har. Now allow me to pick your brain for a bit. I never really had the opportunity to learn much about the wizarding world before my untimely departure from the mortal coil."

Luna pouted. "And here I was thinking that you merely brought me along as a sex object … someone to bugger up against the wall of some back alley as pedestrians walk by unknowing."

"Hmm. I like the sound of that. Maybe later. Right now I'm curious about how wizards and witches buy property. Or check on the availability of specific properties. Are there wizarding real estate agents?"

"I don't really know, actually. I inherited everything from daddy. I would assume that one would simply talk to their financial manager at Gringotts and let them handle it."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. How much power did wizards and witches actually simply hand over to the goblins? No wonder they looked down on humans; not only were humans rude and arrogant towards the goblins … they were stupid!

Harry knew that there was a great deal which could go wrong, but he had no other ideas on how to get what he wanted. And he had _really_ come to dislike not getting what he wanted.

Gathering up his mistress after she had paid the bill, Harry led Luna to the bank. Nodding to the goblin in scarlet and gold, they swept through the burnished bronze entry doors. Once past the silver inner doors, they took their place in one of the many ques. Luna hummed to herself while Harry wizard-watched to pass the time. Judging from the clothing everyone wore, there hadn't been any real advances in styles in the past eight years. He guessed that nothing else had really advanced, either.

Harry found himself wondering what wizarding lingerie might look like. Not the strange but admittedly sexy costumes he had seen in Luna's closet, but real honest-to-goodness lingerie. He'd have to pick some up for Hermione. _Oooh … and sexy French maid outfits for the cleaning servants, yesss!_ His mental images helped the time to pass quickly and they soon found themselves before the teller.

"Yes?" asked the goblin, indifferently.

"I'd like to see about setting up an account, Second Assistant Chief Teller."

The goblin looked up, vaguely interested. The human had bothered to read the plaque and called him by his title. To top it off, he had used a firm but respectful tone. This human must be new here. Looking beyond the couple before him, the goblin could see a human he knew and disliked. Well, he disliked most wizards and witches, to be honest. Making a decision, he smirked and slammed a "This Teller Closed" sign on the counter and climbed down from his high chair. "This way, please." Walking away he grinned at the outraged grumbling building behind him.

Harry followed the goblin through a series of hallways until he reached a plain but well-crafted door which looked exactly like all the others they had passed. Opening the door, the teller stood to the side and nodded at the couple. Harry duplicated the nod and entered followed by his mistress.

Entering the simple but elegant office, Harry saw a well-dressed goblin sitting behind a desk. Continuing to play it off-the-cuff with polite respect, he read the plaque sitting on the desk before the goblin said, "So you wish to open an account?"

"That we do, Third Junior Manager of New Accounts. With your permission?" Harry made a motion to the chairs before the desk.

The goblin raised an eyebrow in surprise. After his nod, the human returned the nod and seated the female before sitting himself.

"If you don't mind, I'm new to the wizarding world and would like to ask about what is and is not possible, sir."

_Ah, that explains it!_ "Feel free to ask your questions, Mr …?"

"Detremin. Tobey Detremin, Third Junior Manager."

The goblin looked at Harry for a moment, considering. "You may call me Scarblade, Mr. Detremin," he finally said.

"Thank you, Manager Scarblade. I had no desire to presume."

"Considerate of you. Now to answer your question simply … anything is possible with the right number of Galleons."

Harry grinned. "As well it should be, sir. As I said, I am new here so my funds are not in the form of Galleons."

"That is not a problem, Mr. Detremin. We convert muggle currency with a 15% surcharge."

"That's good to know, sir. I understand that Galleons are gold coins … one troy ounce? I do have ownership of a few mines outside of England. Would there be a lower surcharge on converting gold bullion? Say … 8% or so?"

"Relatively unusual … but I think Gringotts could arrange an exchange at 10%."

"Thank you, Manager Scarblade. That sounds more than profitable for the both of us. Now as for my second concern, what kind of identification is required."

"We can use either blood or even muggle identification after a verification period."

Harry frowned slightly. "I'm a bit squeamish about spilling my _own_ blood," he grinned. "And I'm a _very_ private person."

Scarblade was beginning to find this human amusing. "Well, we do allow 'Blind Accounts' for a 2,000 Galleon fee."

"Would you have anyway to calc-."

"Sixty-two point two kilograms of gold. Sixty-eight point four two after adding the conversion surcharge," offered Luna in a dreamy voice.

"Thank you, dear." _Gotta love a Ravenclaw. _Turning back to the goblin, Harry casually stated, "We have 500 kilos on us at the moment." _And you've got to love magic, too_. "Would that suffice as an initial deposit to open a new Blind Account?"

"Certainly, Mr. Detremin. I can have the paperwork ready in just a few moments. From what you've said, I'm assuming that you'll be needing your statements mailed to you by muggle post?"

"Thank you … but I actually intend to purchase a home in the region. Could Gringotts help me with that as well?"

"That wouldn't be a problem either. I'm sure our real estate division has a number of fine properties that you might find interesting."

"That's good to know. I'll be looking for two homes, but I would like for one to be a particular place which may not be on your listing. I don't know what became of it … I knew the family which once lived there, but the family has since died out. Even if there is a new owner, I would like to place a bid for its purchase … with price literally being of no object."

"We'll have it looked into." Dipping a quill into his inkwell, Scarblade asked, "And the particular property is …?"

"That would be 12 Grimmauld Place in London. The last time I was there, it was under a Fidelius … I don't know its current status. I'm willing to pay a 1000 Galleon bonus if it can be acquired before the end of the month with said bonus being reduced by 100 each week thereafter."

"It would seem that you know the value of a good incentive," grinned the goblin.

"I'd like to think so. I'm told that goblins are legendary metalsmiths … is that true?"

Scarblade's head shot up to closely examine the customer. Detecting no trace of sarcasm or ridicule in either voice or expression, he took the question as simply that … a question. Allowing his chest to swell with pride, he answered, "Yes, Mr. Detremin, that is correct."

After a nod to Luna, she reached her entire arm into her small purse. After a moment of fishing around, she handed Harry a heavy bar of a silver-grey metal. He placed it on the goblin's desk. "You might have someone check out this bar. If I own 12 Grimmauld by the end of the month, I'll throw in five more bars just like this one. It's a metal called Duranium."

Harry leaned back and smiled. That metal was unknown on earth and would hold enchantments like nothing the goblins had ever even dreamed of … not to mention being both lighter and stronger than steel. He was confident he'd have his house shortly. Fidelius charm or no.

Four days later, Harry would not be surprised as ownership was being transferred to him. Apparently Elaine Gretchcombe, an eighty-two year old widow whom had purchased the house five years previously, met her unfortunate end in scrupulously non-mysterious circumstances.

xXxXx

"You _do_ realize that I haven't the slightest idea of what you're talking about, Albert, don't you?" demanded an exasperated Gnarl.

Albert sighed. It was difficult at times being the Blue in charge of researching new magics and altering existing ones for the use of the Overlord. He seemed to be given impossible task after impossible task. First had been the carving off of pieces of the Overlord's mental "essence" so as to render them into what the Overlord considered manageable chunks. Once the master had re-acquired the knowledge of the magic of his home, his next assignment had been to replace his "wand."

Starting the art of wand-crafting from scratch, they had decided to go in a different direction. Instead of a flimsy wooden stick, the Overlord was provided with a two kilo rod of Duranium with an Arcanium head. Within the shaft could be found a lock of hair taken from Hedwig's mane. Not only did it allow the Overlord to use what he referred to as his "Hogwart's Magic," but it also could cave in a skull with a good, solid swipe.

The Overlord had then decided to stop going "easy" on the Blue. _Find a way to modify the travel gates to return me to someplace called England. Oh, and throw in time travel while you're at it._

Throw in time travel. THROW IN TIME TRAVEL!

Of course he had done it … he _was_ Albert, after all! But there were a few remaining technical difficulties which were troubling him. Those difficulties were what he had been trying to explain to Gnarl for the last twenty minutes. "It can't be done! I can get it to work for minions, but we're physiologically simpler and sturdier than humans. Every human prisoner I've attempted to send back in time has simply exploded. I'll never get all the blood scrubbed out of my lab!"

"Have you tried focusing the energy through a chain of tourmalinated quartz? That should stabilize the transition enough to allow for human survival. Of course, the amount of stabilization required increases geometrically with the distance to be traveled down the time stream."

Both Gnarl and Albert slowly turned their heads to the source of the information which had been spoken in a flat monotone.

There was no expression on Hermione's face. Her head was simply tilted slightly to one side. She knelt next to the Overlord's throne in the exact same position she had been in ever since the Overlord had left.

Neither minion could see her replace a book entitled _Department of Mysteries, vol. VII_ to its proper place on a shelf.

xXxXx

After rearranging her knickers, Luna straightened her robes. Turning, she kissed the Overlord on the cheek. "Thank you, Harry. You _do_ know that there are at least seven more small side alleys here in Diagon Alley … not counting Knockturn?"

Harry gave her a small, sharp slap on the bum. "Settle down, Luna. We've got some shopping to do before heading back to the tower," he chuckled.

Luna pouted. Disappointed, she sighed, "Alright, Harry. Where would you like to go first?"

"Flourish and Blotts, I think. I'm eight years behind on Wizarding magic. Now that I have … a Ravenclaw as a tutor …."

"She'll get better, Harry. Give it time."

"Thanks, Luna." Harry kissed his mistress on the cheek. "If you could help me choose a number of appropriate texts, I'd appreciate it."

"Certainly, Harry. You know, they _do _have a loo in the back …."

"'Fraid not. I'm saving that one for Mione."

"Oh fiddlesticks. We should also hit the bookstore in Knocturn Alley. There are some books there you won't be able to find anywhere else. Since you've got plenty of gold, we should definitely look into getting some books on necromantic magic for you."

"I'm not a -" seeing the expression on Luna's face, Harry sighed, "Fine. But I also want to hit up a few clothing stores. If we can't find anything good here, we can try in muggle England. I remember that my cousin Dudley had a stash of rather interesting catalogues."

As they exited the alley, Luna asked, "Do you think your relatives might still be alive?"

Harry grinned evilly. "If they are, that can easily be rectified. Everything at the proper time, however."

"Well, well … if it isn't Loony Lovegood!"

Both Harry and Luna turned, surprised at hearing the familiar voice. Luna simply raised her eyebrows and waited to see how the Overlord wished to handle the meeting.

Harry raised his nose slightly. "Ah. An acquaintance of yours, Ms. Lovegood?"

"This is Draco Malfoy –"

"That's _Lord_ Draco Malfoy, Lovegood!"

Harry smiled broadly. "A great pleasure, Lord Malfoy. Sometimes it seems that there are too few of us left, these days." Harry extended a hand. "Lord Tobey Detremin," he said in his own introduction. At Draco's raised eyebrow, Harry added, "Of the German Detremins. Just recently arrived to England."

Cautiously, Draco took the proffered hand. "If you don't mind me saying … you sound like you're from the North, Lord Detremin."

Harry chuckled. "Germany has a North! No, pardon my tiny jest. My mother was born there. A minor family, yes, but of pure blood."

Reassured, Draco seemed to lose a bit of his inbred hostility. "May I ask what brings you here to Diagon, Lord Detremin … with your chosen companion?"

"I'm looking into the possibility of extending my investments into my mother's homeland. Ms. Lovegood here was courteous enough to offer me a tour." Stepping forward slightly, he raised his nose a bit more and loudly whispered, "A bit flighty perhaps, but of pure stock. And she's not completely bereft of … _other_ charms."

Draco smiled at who he assumed was a fellow noble. "I understand completely, Lord Detremin. I would consider it an honour if you might dine with me some evening. Perhaps we could discuss business and the current state of our respective countries?"

"Not only would it be _my _honour, Lord Malfoy, it would be my distinct pleasure. I've yet to purchase a manor in England, but that's currently being taken care of. Once that's done, if I might be allowed to send you an owl? We could set up the arrangements at that time."

"I'll await your owl, Lord Detremin. I fear I have certain errands to run, but it was a pleasure meeting you."

After the two "nobles" nodded to each other, Harry added, "Believe me, Lord Malfoy … the pleasure was all mine."

After Draco had walked away, Luna giggled as Harry waggled his eyebrows at her. "Are you ready to go shopping now, _Lord_ Detremin?"

"Lead on you pure-blooded wench! I'm sure there's another alley beside the next store."

xXxXx

After their shopping spree – or more correctly, after Harry had forcibly dragged Luna from a seedy little shop in muggle London which sold books, toys, costumes, films, and many things which Harry couldn't even begin to identify – they took the Knight Bus to an old, broken down department store which had once been called Purge and Dowse, Ltd. After a small chat with the dummy in the window, Luna and Harry entered St. Mungo's and sought out the least crowded corner of the reception area.

"I remember seeing them once before, but the details are a bit fuzzy," admitted Harry.

"They're on the fourth floor … the Janus Thickey ward." Seeing Harry's quizzical expression, Luna explained, "Daddy did an in-depth interview with them several years ago for the _Quibbler_. It was a very short article. They didn't seem to want to comment on anything."

Harry gave a slight snort, but quickly forced his face into a serious expression after seeing Luna's confused look. "No respect for the press, I guess … let's –"

Turning to see what Harry was suddenly gaping at, Luna smiled. "Yes … she works here now. I think she works on diseases on the second floor. I guess the Welcome Witch called in sick. Stay here and drool for a bit, if you'd like. I'll meet you on the fourth." With that she slipped away, leaving Harry behind.

Harry was assuming it was Padma Patil and not her sister. Being in Ravenclaw, he deduced that she would be the one most likely to become a healer. Parvati he would expect to be working for _Witch Weekly_ or somesuch.

Leaning against the wall, he merely watched her for a while. Dean Thomas had been right about her and her sister. They had been two of the most attractive women in their year … with at least _one_ notable person keeping them from the top of the list, in Harry's opinion.

Eight years had not damaged her beauty. Actually, she looked even better now than she had as a teenager. Even though her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, the lush curves which had only been hinted at in her youth had finally blossomed.

_And she has a twin! Surely that should … no, no. Still number two and/or three. God, I hope Parvati hasn't let herself go. It would be a crime against wizards to bollocks up that sandwich!_ Looking around, Harry suddenly realized that he was alone. _Now where did … oh, yeah! She went on ahead._ With a last glance at the probable Padma, Harry left the reception area to wander deeper into the hospital.

Upon reaching ward 49, Harry noted that the sole caretaker of the ward appeared to be asleep at her station. Seeing that she was breathing but not in the most comfortable of sleeping positions, Harry guessed that Luna had hit her with a stunner. Stepping quietly into the ward, he saw that no one else seemed to be up and about.

"Luna?"

There was no sign of her. Growing worried, he began to search the room.

"Psst! Luna!"

There was still no answer. But he did note that one of the beds in the back corner was occupied … and the sheet was pulled up over the occupant's head. Adding to the strangeness, there seemed to be a note left lying atop the concealed person.

Approaching the bed, Harry noticed Luna's clothing piled up on the floor next to it. He shook his head at the sight. _Sweet Merlin, what now?_ Reaching out, he picked up the note and read it.

_One must wonder what the Future Great Necromancer will do after coming across his first body: A lovely young woman of perky breasts, delightful disposition, and a bum which could crack a walnut._

Slipping the note into a pocket, Harry rubbed at his left eye. That strange burning sensation was behind it again. Lifting up the sheet, he started.

The nude Luna with closed eyes lying in repose he had expected. The paleness of her skin and a slight blue tint, however, had him wondering if there was something wrong with the light. He reached out to stroke her cheek. "Luna … you are one sick, twisted, little – All-Mighty Merlin Sucking on Himself!" he practically screeched as he snatched his hand back and let the sheet drop.

Harry took a moment to compose himself then lifted the sheet once again. "_Really_, Luna? You cast a _chilling_ charm on yourself!"

The "corpse" briefly smiled then returned to its previous serene expression.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Harry's outburst had awoken the patient in a nearby bed. A perfectly coiffed figure in lilac pajamas sat up and smiled. "Well hello! Who are you?" Glancing over at the girl under the sheet that Harry was still holding up, he added, "And who is _that_ ripe little tomato?"

Without even looking at the speaker, Harry pulled out his rod and aimed behind him. "_Stupefy. Ava—_no, not worth it. _Obliviate. _Luna! We don't have the time to … ah, hell."

xXxXx

"'Ere now, 'ere now … 'old on fer a secon'!" Stumbling to the door of his hut, the hirsute figure opened the door wide. Not too many things scared him … well, nothing that would be knocking at his door, definitely. "Why, Miss Lovegood! My … it 'as been an age! What're yeh doin' 'ere at this hour o' the night?"

"Hello, Hagrid. I ran into a friend on his way here and I thought I'd join him. I hope you don't mind."

"Course not, missy. Always a pleasure ta see ole friends … come in … come in!"

Luna skipped into the hut and moved a good distance away as Hagrid's attention returned to the door.

"Hello Hagrid."

The half-giant froze, turning bone white. "'Arry? Is it really you?"

"Yes, Hagrid, it's me. Sorry I didn't give you any warning. Dumbledore told me about his recent troubles, so I figured I should see if I could lend a hand."

Snatching the young man up in a bearhug, Rubeus Hagrid started bawling like a baby. "I thot yer were dead, 'Arry!"

As his ribs threatened to break, Harry finally managed to gasp out, "No … but I WILL be if you don't let me go!"

Hagrid dropped the young man he had never expected to see again. "Soree 'bout that! But … but … 'ow …?"

Harry sighed then smiled at the gentle giant. "Sorry that I couldn't tell you, Hagrid. Only Professor Dumbledore and I knew … he thought it better that way. Even Ron and Hermione couldn't know. It was the only way for me to avoid the circus afterwards and live a normal life. It was all staged."

Hagrid sniffed, "I unnerstand, 'Arry. Great man … great man, that Dumbledore. I'm sure 'e thot it the best fer yer."

"Yes, well … I'm back now. I needed to stop and say hello to you."

"I'm glad yer did, 'Arry! Care for a cuppa tea? Maybe some stew … there still some simmerin' in the pot?"

"I'd _love_ some, Hagrid."

Luna slid forward and interjected, "I'll get it … you two sit down and get reacquainted!"

Harry and Hagrid talked and talked, Hagrid overjoyed to learn that Harry hadn't died as everyone but Dumbledore had thought. Luna smiled at the two and kept their cups and bowls filled as they laughed and reminisced … talking of Harry's school days and then Hagrid telling Harry of the years that followed. As dawn approached, Hagrid grew more and more tired, but he resisted the urge to sleep, not wanting to end the night with Harry.

It finally became too much for Hagrid and his head dropped forward to the table. His snoring was loud, but after a moment, his snores seemed to develop a loud hitch to their rhythm.

"I was growing worried, Harry. I must've gone through ten vials of poison in his stew and tea."

"A risk, yes. But he deserved a peaceful death. It wasn't his fault that he was Dumbledore's Dobby."

Harry stretched and yawned. It had been a long but productive day. Gringotts … Malfoy … shopping … the Longbottoms … surviving Luna … and now Hagrid. Moving over to stand next to the sleeping half-giant, Harry laid his hand on Hagrid's shoulder. "Sleep well, my friend. May your final dreams be filled with large women. As a gift to you – just in case there is an afterlife – I'll seek out Madam Maxine and make sure she joins you soon."

Harry moved over to Hagrid's counter and found a large knife. The poison should be enough, but he would have to make sure. "I'm afraid that I will have to shag her first, though. I've never been with a giantess." Knife in hand, Harry returned to Hagrid and waited for the disjointed snoring to end.

***** I know … from slow to slow-but-twisted. Don't ask me … I'm just typing, here. And yes ... I've seen all kind of Galleon-Pound-Dollar conversions. I'm not interested in writing a "get rich by converting between currencies" story (but I have actually read a great one where Hermione's dad is the mastermind!). I opted for "gold-to-gold, exchange and move on." Harry being an insanely wealthy Overlord and ruler of another world ... let's just consider it a done-deal, please.  
><strong>


	8. Two in the Bush

*****Sixth Assistant Junior Junior Manager (twice removed) of Copyrights, Patents, and Licenses Tweaknose: **_**All the proper identification identifying you as J.K. Rowling would be 75,000 Galleons. Full Gender Transfiguration not included in the cost.**_

*****Gwyion669: **_**Too rich for my blood. What else?**_

*****Tweaknose: **_**Warner Brothers executive … 15,000 Galleons.**_

*****Gwyion669: **_**Nope. Still too expensive. Anything else?**_

*****Tweaknose: **_**Publisher … 2,000 Galleons. Or third party licensee … 750 Galleons plus 80 percent of all proceeds.**_

*****Gwydion669: **_***sigh* How much for unpaid fanfiction writer?**_

*****Tweaknose: **_***flips through several pages* Your time, self-respect, and two Knuts.**_

*****Gwydion669: **_**Got that! Deal!**_

*****Sorry for the delay … too damn pissed off for awhile to fix the original 80% and finish the last 20% of this chapter. If'n ye be curious (for some ungodly reason) author's … no, writer's … no … monkeybanger's rant will be placed at the end of the chapter.**

**Chapter 8**

**Two in the Bush**

Luna sighed after being awoken by Harry's tossing and turning for the third time that night. Hagrid's death had bothered him more than he would admit. In Harry's mind, it had been a necessary death but not a deserved one.

There was no way Dumbledore or the Order would have let Hagrid know of their plan to murder Harry. The phrase "like Hagrid keeps a secret" had been in use by both the students and faculty of Hogwarts for decades to denote something between highly unlikely and patently impossible.

But Hagrid had been owned by Dumbledore … body and soul. On top of that, the half-giant was a dangerous individual to be at odds with; _that_ had been made clear to numerous fallen enemies at the Battle of Hogwarts. He was a weapon who was too dangerous to remain in Dumbledore's arsenal. Hagrid's death would also serve as another little message to the Headmaster as well.

Luna knew that there was a third reason … one which Harry would never admit. Things would be getting worse for Dumbledore. Dark deeds would be done and, at some point in the future, it may or may not come to light that Harry Potter was the Overlord responsible.

Harry had wanted Hagrid – the man who had rescued him from the Dursleys and had shown a beaten child a world of magic, the first person to ever wish him a happy birthday, the gentle soul who had first treated him as a friend – to die peacefully before ever knowing what kind of man that boy had become.

Luna slipped from the Overlord's bed. Holding Harry helped, but not much it seemed. Padding from the room, she smiled at the Browns posted in front of the Overlord's chambers before swiftly walking down the hall and descending a staircase to the floor on which her private chambers could be found.

Entering her room, Luna headed straight to the smallest of her trunks. For six years after her mother's death, Luna had taken a dreamless sleep potion every night before bed. Even though Harry's death had somehow managed to finally silence her mum's screams, she was certain that she still had a few of those potions in storage with her personal potion kit.

Finding one, Luna rushed back to Harry's private chambers. She smiled at what she saw upon her return.

When he had first gone to bed, Harry had brought Hermione along as well as Luna … one girl to snuggle under each arm. Luna saw that Harry was now on his side, smiling in his sleep, and pressed tightly against the bushy-haired young woman. One of her arms was tightly wrapped around him, a leg thrown over his thigh pulling him close as well. Her free hand gently stroked the cheek of the face pressed against her chest.

Luna noted that Hermione was looking down at Harry and not at something beyond. She could see Hermione's lips periodically moving.

Placing the unneeded potion upon the bedside table, Luna slipped back into the bed and spooned herself up against Harry's back. This close, she could hear Hermione's whispers.

"It's alright, Harry. Everything's okay. I'm here."

xXxXx

With a yawn, Harry stretched and smiled. For some reason, that had been the most refreshing rest he had had in a very long time. Blinking away sleep, his smile slowly changed into a frown. There had been no restriction to his arm movements. The accustomed weight of an arm or leg thrown over him was not there this morning. Once wide awake, he realized that he was alone in the bed.

_Well … this sucks! Where my witches?_

He wasn't worried about Hermione or Luna. If something had happened during the night, he knew that his minions would have awoken him. Grumbling about their absence, he performed his morning ablutions and picked out something casual to wear.

Deciding that it was time to make sure that everything was good with the world in the hand rather than the one in the bush, Harry headed down to his throne room rather than look for the missing women. He was sure that they would turn up later.

As he walked down the stairwell, Harry could feel the silly grin plastered to his face. He knew that his attitude had been very different for the past several days. He also knew that the change worried his minions. To be truthful, the smiles … the laughter … the change in his demeanor worried a part of him as well. He was not acting like the man he had been for the last eight years. Another side of him rejoiced in that fact.

As he continued to descend, Harry shook his head in confusion. He had taken his revenge on a few enemies … killed a few people to make a point … was working on the downfall of a major power figure. Nothing new there. Mistresses? He already had several. He was really doing nothing more than taking care of unfinished business which he had "forgotten" about for several years.

_So why do I feel so bloody chipper?_

After wandering down several levels and stepping from the stone staircase, he learned that he would discover the whereabouts of his two witches much sooner than he had expected.

Both Hermione and Luna awaited the Overlord, one on either side of his throne. Both wore heavy leather collars and knelt in the same pose which Hermione had been in the previous day. A length of chain descended from each collar and was attached to the armrests of the throne. Both women wore leather cuffs – with locks and small metal rings designed to allow restraint in a variety of positions – about their wrists and ankles.

It seemed that Luna – for it was unquestionably Luna behind it all – had decided that they should go the "full humiliation" route and forgo clothing.

_I will not let this rattle me. I'm the Overlord, damnit!_ _And it's not as if I've never seen a naked woman in chains before. _Harry paused for a moment, allowing his eyes to roam over the two figures. There was something about these two, though. They somehow could easily manage to make him feel like some embarrassed fifteen-year-old. That fact both thrilled him … and terrified him.

_Stiff upper lip, old son. Overlords don't blush!_

After a slight pause to steel himself mentally, Harry casually strolled over to his throne and sat down trying to seem like he encountered such a scene every day. "Good morning, ladies."

"Good morning, master," they responded in unison.

"Luna, might I ask why …?" inquired Harry in an enforced bored tone as he swept his arm about the throne.

"I thought it might please you, master." Adopting a sly grin, she added, "Don't tell me you hadn't thought about it."

Harry's left eye twitched as the ball of pain he had recently dubbed "little-Luna" began to form once again.

"Does … does our master find this pleasing?"

The pain behind Harry's eye was quickly extinguished and forgotten as soon as Harry heard that familiar voice. It was a bit timid, a bit uncertain, but not devoid of life as it had been up till recently. Slowly reaching out, he used a finger to lift the brunette's chin so that she would face him. She blushed but looked _at_ him and not _beyond_ him. Leaning down, he gently brushed his lips against hers. "Very much so. How are you, Hermione?" he asked, his voice filled with true concern.

Her blush deepened. "I'm … getting better, Harry. I've gotten my Occlumency back and that seems to help. I'm not … not complete yet, but I think I can see the finish line."

Harry smiled warmly at her despite the shiver that ran through him. _And where will we stand once you've finished?_

Harry's musings were interrupted by a loud cough. Looking up, he saw that Gnarl had arrived sometime during his conversation with Hermione. "Yes?"

"I see that you've done some redecorating, sire. Should I come back at some other time?"

Glancing back to Hermione, Harry winked at the still blushing brunette then turned an indifferent face to Gnarl. "No, now is as good a time as any. Is there anything I should be aware of on the homefront?"

"Two envoys have been awaiting your pleasure, Dark One. The mayor of Spree and a Commander Talbot of Nordberg."

Cultivating an image of casual disinterest, Harry leaned back in his throne and extended an arm to stroke Hermione's hair. "Go ahead and send Archie in."

Gnarl signaled a Brown standing at the massive doors. They were promptly opened and another minion rushed out to the adjoining chamber. A few moments later, the obese innkeeper and now mayor of Spree, Archibaldamius Methuselah Wobbleboard the Third, shuffled into the throneroom. With downcast eyes, he waddled forward while clutching his hat in his hands. He was nervously wringing the hat as if trying to squeeze water from a mop.

"Always a pleasure to meet with you, mayor. I do hope that my unavoidable attention to other matters has not kept you waiting overly long."

"Of course not, Lord. I know you are a busy man. No problem. No problem at all."

"You seem troubled, my friend. How might I be able to assist you?" asked Harry as he continued to run his hand through Hermione's hair.

The mayor gathered his courage and looked up. His prepared speech was completely forgotten as he finally became aware of the tableau before him. The Ruborian's jaw fell open as his eyes darted to either side of the Overlord's throne.

Harry chuckled. Perhaps Luna's teasing of him had revealed something which could be used to his benefit. Enemy or ally … throwing off-balance the one you were dealing with would give an advantage either way. On top of that, they were a heck of a lot easier on the eye than those stupid demon statues he had allowed Velvet to talk him into adorning the throneroom with!

Harry allowed the mayor a few moments to gawk at the two young women kneeling on either side of his throne. With a small smile, he asked, "Archie? Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What? Urm … yes!" The mayor of Spree – with some effort – dropped to one knee. "I've come to beg for both your forgiveness and mercy, my Lord. Spree has suffered from a drought these past few months. We have no desire to fail in our obligations to you, but we have found no way to come up with your duly deserved tribute." The innkeeper cringed in fear, staring at the floor. The years had shown the current Overlord to be a fair man … if a bit ruthless. If he somehow viewed something as a broken oath, betrayal, or violation of a contract, however … well, the gods of the Underworld were to be feared less than him.

Harry glanced over to Gnarl and raised an eyebrow. Nodding, the aged minion verified that there had actually been a drought. "Archie, my old friend … please stand up. There is no need to kneel before me and ask for mercy. And please, do not avert your gaze. You are a friend … an ally. You are not some slave that need fear the anger of an irate master."

The relief in Archibald's expression was obvious. "Thank you, my Lord. I had feared that the news might upset you."

Harry laughed. "You don't control the weather, Archie. If you did, I would have dragged you away from Spree to become a part of my army long ago. These things happen. It is now our job to make the most of what the gods have given us."

Archibald fought to conceal his overwhelming relief. It would seem that he would be returning home to his family tonight. He had briefly considered fleeing Spree with his wife and children but had realized that the Overlord would have eventually found him no matter how far they had run. "Our crops were hit the hardest. We can still meet the requirements of the rest of your tribute, however, my Lord."

Harry tapped his chin in thought. "No, no. You may need the gold to purchase replacements for any shortfall in food. The same with the livestock. The people of Spree will still need to eat. For this tribute, I shall expect only half the number of sheep normally provided … and nothing else."

The mayor of Spree couldn't believe his ears. This was more than he had hoped for in his wildest dreams! Sighing in relief, he struggled to his feet with a huge smile plastered on his face. "Thank you, my Lord. Thank you. Your kindness—"

Harry waved his hand, dismissing the platitudes. "I will, however, expect next season's tribute to be doubled to make up the loss or else I will be … displeased."

"Double?" squeaked the mayor.

"Yes, double. You have plenty of time and – with any luck – the gold and finished goods from this season won't be needed and can simply be added to the next tribute. It shouldn't be more than just a bit of belt-tightening."

"I … I …."

"And how is the family doing, Archie?" Harry asked in a friendly tone. "Your eldest daughter … Nicosa, I believe? … she'll be celebrating her sixteenth birthday soon, won't she?"

Archibaldamius looked up with wide, frightened eyes. "She'll be fourteen next month."

"Ah," sighed Harry while smacking his lips. "An even more joyous time. There are few things as wondrous in this world as a young girl on the cusp of becoming a woman. Perhaps I'll find the time to drop by and pay my respects after the next tribute. We'll just have to see how it goes."

The dark-skinned Ruborian paled. After Harry waved his hand in dismissal, he turned and fled from the room.

"Well, sire … that was about as subtle as a mace to the jewels," chuckled Gnarl.

Harry rolled his eyes. "True. Archie's a good man. He's competent and takes care of his people. He's not the sharpest sword on the rack, however. Anything more subtle would have gone over his head."

"Would … would you act—"

The Overlord swung his arm to hold one finger up before Hermione. "Stop right there!" After clenching his fist a few times to calm himself, Harry spoke softly to the girl kneeling at the side of his throne. "Before you say anything that we would both regret, understand this … if I should seek advice, I will actually listen to it. But once I have made a decision, I will not be challenged. Once I have spoken, I will not be questioned. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, master," she said quietly.

Harry sat in silence for a moment. Finally, he sighed. "To answer your question … no. Actually, I _wouldn't_ do that. But that's only because Archie is not an enemy. Also, I would rather bed a yeti than his wife or any of his daughters. Shaving and making the beast look presentable would take considerably less time and meet with better results. It was merely a veiled threat to ensure his meeting next season's tribute. At most, I would have him and his wife publicly executed as an example to the next mayor."

Gnarl stood by silently, watching the interplay intently. Once the silence became uncomfortable, he decided to speak up. "Should I ask Commander Talbot to return later?"

With a last glance at Hermione who kept her head lowered, Harry said, "No … send him in."

After a quick nod from Gnarl to the Brown stationed at the door, the envoy from Nordberg was sent in to face his ruler.

A man in his forties strode stiffly into the room. Before reaching the Overlord's throne, he dropped to one knee, clasped his arm to his chest, and lowered his head in respect.

Harry was satisfied by what he saw. The man wore the dress uniform of his human troops in Nordberg, a land of snow and ice. He knew that Talbot would be extremely uncomfortable wearing it in the current clime, but he bore his discomfort stoically. His scarred face revealed more about his service than did the medals on his chest. The medals were few but significant. None of them were the worthless garbage that the politicians handed out to sycophants.

Good. A leader of men … not of sheep. "Rise, commander. You bear news from Nordberg?"

Talbot rose in one fluid motion. "Aye, my lord. A small enclave of holdouts from the non-reformed branch of the Silent Order was found in the mountains outside Nordberg. We fought and defeated them. The survivors were taken prisoner and have been brought here to face your personal judgment."

Harry actually smiled. He had started his war on the Order years ago out of spite. Most of those who remained now worshiped him rather than their nameless god. The few holdouts had gone into hiding and were as hard to dig out as a gnome in its burrow. "Excellent! I'll have Gnarl draft a missive for you to take back with you along with gifts and my gratitude. The tower's forces will take charge of the prisoners. How many are there?"

"Twenty-three, my lord. Nineteen others refused to surrender and were put to the sword."

Striding down to stand before the commander, Harry gave him a good-natured clap on his shoulder. "You and the men have my thanks. An extra bag of gold will be given to you to distribute among the men involved in the assault. Make sure the council doesn't know about it before it's distributed."

Talbot grinned before nodding. "Aye, lord. I'll see to it."

"Good man. You and your men take a rest. Return the day after tomorrow and Gnarl will have everything ready for your return trip."

After Talbot had left the room, Harry returned to his throne. "Have the prisoners handled in the usual way, Gnarl."

"As you will, sire."

Once again seated on his throne, Harry leaned back and smirked. He detested the Silent Order. They had been the largest organized religion in his lands … and were complete nutters. The priests and priestesses of the Order would have their own lips sewn shut and were also referred to as "Mumblers." His current method of handling them involved throwing them into the dungeons for a week and letting his mistress, Velvet, have her way with them. They would then be given the option of becoming Drones slaving away in his mines or joining his version of the church. After swearing their allegiance, they would be separated into two groups. The men would remain Mumblers while the women would have their lips unsealed and become part of the Order of Hummers. They had proven quite popular with his human troops.

Harry chuckled to himself. The Silent Order was always good for a laugh. "Gnarl … Talbot is to get a half-weight sack of gold for the troops and documentation to that effect in case he needs it. The town is to get two full-weight sacks. One is to be used for a town celebration and the second for the needs of the town itself." Harry rolled his eyes acknowledging that at least half of that one would end up in the hands of the council members. At least they kept the people in line. "And send along two cases of wine. Not the good stuff, but something close."

"Feeling a mite generous today, sire?"

Harry smiled an evil grin. "Follow that up with notices to all the other villages and towns. Make sure they know the extent of my generosity to Nordberg and why."

Gnarl sighed. He was certain that _one_ half-weight bag would have been more than sufficient. "The only other item that requires your attention would be the Arcanium mines near Golden Fields."

Now this caught the Overlord's attention. Arcanium was another metal not found on his homeworld. It was to Duranium what Duranium was to iron ore. "What seems to be the problem?"

"We're not certain, sire. Mine production has been slowly decreasing for the past few months. Right now, it's averaging fifteen percent lower than it ever has before. Either that particular mine is going dry, or …."

"The dwarves are playing games," finished Harry in a cold voice.

"Yes, sire. We have yet to determine which scenario is more likely."

"Then it would appear that an on-site inspection might be called for. Let us finish up here, and then I'll make plans for a little visit."

Rolling his ever present parchments up and tucking them away, Gnarl continued, "And Albert wished to speak to you … nothing urgent, however."

"Urgent or not, Albert has my attention whenever he needs it. Send him in." Harry smiled to himself. He knew damn well that he often asked the Blue for the impossible. To his amazement, the little creature had come through every time … often frazzled and pulling out his own hair, but always successful in the end.

Harry smiled at the minion who entered and moved to stand before his throne. "Hullo, Albert … what can I do for you?"

"Good day to you, your Eminence. I merely wanted to report our latest advancements to you. You are aware that – even though we managed to send Horatio and a few others back eight years into the past of the land of England – we haven't had any successful temporal transitions with humans."

Harry leaned forward, intent on what he was hearing. "Are you telling me that you've broken that barrier?"

"Not quite yet, your Magnificence. But there has been substantial progress made. To be honest … we were at a standstill. Your … your … well, _her_," with that the Blue pointed at Hermione, "provided us with a new avenue of inquiry. The equations require refinement, but we have already successfully shifted two test subjects an hour into the past. It is not yet ready for you, but I now have every confidence that we will succeed."

Placing his index finger under Hermione's chin, Harry turned her head to face him. "Thank you," he mouthed.

Hermione blushed again, overwhelmed by the simple statement of gratitude. "Anything for you, Harry," she whispered in response.

"If I might be so bold as to ask a favor, my Lord, I would like the opportunity to meet with your new … urm …."

"Use 'companion' for the time being."

"Of course. I would like to be given the opportunity to speak with your companion further. Perhaps she has other insights which would prove equally invaluable."

"Hermione?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.

"If helping him helps you … please allow me to do so."

Harry smiled and gave her a nod. He knew that he would have to make a trip to the mines near Golden Fields. He had wanted to take Hermione and Luna with him and show them his world, but he realized that – for the time being – their time might be better utilized at the tower.

"Albert … these two ladies will be remaining here while I check on the mines. They are two of the most brilliant witches I have ever met. Talk with them while I'm gone; show them the spellstones; work with them. I would not be surprised if they should come up with new magics or a multitude of ways to improve the magics that the tower grants me."

Albert bowed low. "Your will be done, my master."

Turning to the girl to the left of his throne, Harry said, "Luna … if you would be so kind … go through those books you picked up while I'm gone. If Hermione is up to it, see if the two of you can work out what I should learn. I don't mind surprising Dumbledore and others with my abilities or minions, but I don't have any desire to be surprised by _them_ due to my being behind the times in magic."

"Even the books on Necromancy?"

Harry sighed and said hello to "little-Luna" once again. What was that girl's fascination with Necromancy? "Alright … very well. But I'm on a tight schedule. If it's useful, let me know about it. If it's just to satisfy some weird kink of yours, save it for later."

"I understand, Harry. Useful kink now … kinky kink later." Luna looked up at him with a mischievous grin on her face.

Harry sighed once again. He had a feeling that he and "little-Luna" were going to become very close acquaintances.

The Overlord allowed his mind to wander. He had subdued the dwarves near Golden Fields several years ago, but they remained tough, stubborn bastards. He and his minions had managed to take them by surprise that first time, but – if they were actually working against his interests – the dwarves would be prepared this time. He would have to go in force … perhaps with a company of human soldiers as well as minions. He wouldn't be able to control that many minions directly, but that would merely place him in the role that any _normal_ general would have over his forces. If that general were commanding retarded, blood-thirsty children, of course.

As Harry contemplated the composition and disposition of the troops he would take with him, he found himself idly sliding his arms around the wide stone armrests of his throne.

_Hmm. I bet that matching Patil armrests would be very … comfortable._

Harry shook his head, trying to drive that sudden visual image from his mind. Allowing his gaze to rove over both Hermione and Luna, he tried to convince himself that he should be quite satisfied.

_But greed is good! Greed makes us strive and excel. Without it, first comes complacency … then stagnation. Stagnation inevitably leads to decline. So what's the harm in being a little greedy? You've already decided that a few "ornaments" around the throne can be useful. Hermione and Luna are much too valuable to fill that role … at least, all the time._

_And don't forget that familiarity breeds contempt … or, at the very least, dissatisfaction. The Patils plus a few more. Some sort of rotation or schedule could be established. That would take Hermione … what? Five seconds to come up with? Two?_

Deciding to distance himself from that line of thought for the moment, Harry pulled to the fore something he had been thinking of for some time. "Gnarl … I want you to increase the flow of gold to our spy network while I'm handling the dwarves. Have them keep an eye out for some fool we can support as a leader for a subversive group working against me."

"Pardon, sire?" This was a new one even for Overlord Harry.

"It's an idea I've been toying with for awhile. It should gather malcontents into one convenient place, and we'll know everything about them from day one. Merlin … if things get boring enough and I've finished with Dumbledore, I may cast a glamour on myself and become the leader of my own opposition."

Gnarl tried to stifle his groan. Glancing up, he noticed the brunette on his master's right lower her head and then shrug in despair. On the left, he saw the blond roll her eyes and sigh. Gnarl realized that the two human females were thinking the same thoughts as him.

It seemed that the females knew his master as well as he did. None of them would be overly surprised if the Overlord somehow managed to overthrow himself by accident!

"As you wish, sire," Gnarl finally sighed.

Try as he might, Harry found himself unable to keep the image of the Patil sisters from his mind: Him sitting upon his throne, his arms resting along the length of their bodies, each hand cupping an identical breast as other women from his Hogwart's days moved about the throneroom cleaning in place of the tower servants who had served him for the past eight years.

_In French Maid outfits. Don't leave that part out!_

Harry realized he was much too old for such adolescent fantasies, but he kept remembering one of Gnarl's earliest lessons: Power corrupts … but absolute power can be a hell of a lot of fun.

Besides … Albus, Hogwart's, and even England _owed_ him. It was time to call the marker due.

"Gnarl … who's the eldest among the cleaning servants?"

Gnarl scratched a claw against his chin. He had never paid them much attention to be honest. He pretty much thought of them as tower furniture. "That would be … Lydia … I think … maybe?"

Harry shook his head at the aged minion. "Please have her brought before me. I'd like to talk to her for a bit."

It wasn't long before the requested servant appeared before her master. She was shocked by the two women with him, but she determined that it was not her place to say anything. "You summoned me, sire?"

"Yes, Lydia, I did." Harry examined the woman closely. She was still an attractive woman, still years shy of "handsome" … probably in her early forties. She had yet to reach the point where her servant uniform looked ridiculous on her, but she would definitely look better in the slightly more concealing maid outfits he would soon be issuing. "You've served me well for the past eight years. First, I would like to thank you for that."

"Si—sire?" she asked as her head snapped up in sudden worry.

"I wanted to ask you if you might desire to leave my service."

Harry was surprised and then slightly angered when Lydia threw herself at his feet in tears, spouting gibberish he found difficult to make out. Perhaps Jester's Jump would be the proper retirement package after all!

Slowly, Lydia's speech became more coherent and Harry calmed down. "I'm sorry, sire! I beg of you – whatever I did, I'm sorry! Please! Please! I'll work harder! I'll try to be more inventive like mistress Velvet! I'll –"

Reaching out, Harry pried her arms from around his leg and pulled the distraught servant into his lap. "Calm yourself, Lydia. You've done nothing wrong."

"Then …" she sniffled, "… then why …?"

"You wouldn't like to be your own woman again? Go back to your family? Do something aside from clean the tower and service me whenever instructed?" Harry paused and smiled. "No longer have Gnarl eyeing your bum?"

"Sire!" from an outraged Gnarl.

"I knew I had pegged him right as a bum man … or bum minion … a bumion?" giggled Luna.

"My … my husband is dead, master. He was one … one of the ten hung. I ha—have nothing to go back to … no prospects. I'd be lucky to become a low-coin-lass at some sleazy tavern. More likely, I'd have to sell myself into slavery just to eat."

"Shush, woman. Don't be silly. You didn't think I'd just kick you out of the tower with just the clothes on your back?"

"I'd hope not, sire! Those clothes belong to the tower and can be used for the next servant!"

"Shut it, Gnarl." _How the hell did I end up in this asylum? Oh, yeah. Dumbledore killed me!_ "That's why I wanted to talk to you, Lydia. I'm still working out the details. I was thinking about giving each girl five hundred gold or thereabouts. An equal amount to be made available as a dowry for marriage …." Harry ignored Gnarl as he walked away in a huff after throwing the parchments in his hand into the air. "That should be enough for a small farm or a home in a village. Enough to start a small business of some sort. I'd let it be known that, having left my service in good standing, anyone who would attempt to harm you or woo you solely for the dowry would face my extreme displeasure."

Lydia simply stared at the Overlord, her eyes wide in shock. "Master?" she whispered. "Are you … are you serious?"

Feeling unusually cheeky, the Overlord said, "No … that's my godfather." Harry smiled at the confused look from Lydia and the two groans from either side of his throne. "You aren't limited to just Spree, either. If you'd be more comfortable in some other town, I'd have you taken there. You could start a new life wherever you wanted."

Lydia still couldn't wrap her head around what she had heard. "But … but why?"

"I'll be honest … you and the rest have been with me for nearly eight years … Harriet only _after_ I recovered my Blues. The ten of you have served me well, but this isn't a position that sees you into your golden years. If you were slaves taken in battle, I'd just probably put you to death after I tired of you. Harriet volunteered, but the rest of you are here through no fault of your own. You have a right to your own lives. And I've been thinking that it might be nice to have some old 'friends' serve me. There are only so many people that are really needed to keep this tower clean."

"Thank you. Thank you, sire." Lydia started tracing a line of kisses from Harry's cheek, down his neck, to his shoulder and then back up. "Thank you …."

"That's alright, Lydia. I just hope that – eep! – watch the hands! That's not really – Ahah!" Harry started squirming in his throne as Lydia started to slide and twist around him as if she were a one-woman nest of serpents.

Gnarl, having recently returned from his fit of pique, merely rolled his eyes at the scene before him. "An intercourse break is in order, I take it, sire?"

"What? No! I'm sure – AIEE-HA-HA – well, maybe a short – WHOAH – perhaps an hour?"

"We're chopped turnips," pouted the blond on the left arm of his throne.

"Urm … what? Okay! Make it – OWW! Not so hard, Lydia! – Gnarl, clear the room for three hours!"

xXxXx

Jotting down a number of formulae on her own, Luna cast a surreptitious glance over to Hermione. Harry had assembled his troops a few days ago and had departed the tower to confront the dwarves at the mine near Golden Fields. Given the situation and him taking along such a large force, Harry had decided to travel there through conventional methods and not the gates his minions had established.

The period of pure research had proven good for the bushy-haired brunette. Luna knew Hermione well enough to know that – despite the mental concentration needed for the research – it was much akin to someone else knitting or painting. While Hermione's conscious mind dealt with the research at hand, her subconscious would steadily work on much more important concepts and situations in the background. Over the past two days the brunette had grown much more confident and was rapidly returning to her old self.

That was not to say that their current work wasn't fascinating. They had discovered that even though magic existed in this world, it was not quite the same magic that they knew. The foundation was different, but once that was taken into consideration, the "laws" of magic were consistent. Both Luna and Hermione were quite proficient in Arithmancy and Runes. Since they were given access to the Overlord's spellstones, they had learned a great deal about Harry's special abilities.

Harry's magical core – or mana, as it was referred to here – powered his spells and was boosted by the Tower Heart which was linked to him. The spells themselves, however, were only available through a circuit completed by him, the tower, the Tower Heart, and spellstones.

Spellstones were an integral part of that circuit. They were large tori of stone completely covered in runes arithmagically breaking the spell in question down.

Outside of the tower, the spellstones were useless. Within the tower, the Tower Heart allowed Harry to access the spells engraved upon them no matter where he was.

"It's amazing how such disparate magical effects are related to each other at their source," offered Luna.

Hermione dropped her quill and rubbed her eyes. "You can say that again."

"Why would I need to?"

"Forget it. I just meant to agree. I just can't believe how much of this is recursive. The minions … the hives … the 'Evil Presence' spell … Drones … the selection and reconstitution of a new Overlord … it's all connected somehow. I believe that I may have found it. This equation appears somewhere within almost all of the others, but I've never seen anything like it!"

Luna stood up and moved behind the exhausted brunette. Looking over her shoulder, she examined the parchment Hermione had been working on. "I've seen this."

"Of course you have. It's ruddy well all over the place! It's on the spellstones, the columns in the Heart Chamber, engraved on the walls of the Spawning Pit –"

"No! Not anywhere here … but I've seen it! Now where …? Hold on!" Luna rushed over to a stack of books on the far side of the table and pulled out one near the bottom. Throwing open the large tome, she started to quickly turn pages. Finding what she sought, she started giggling and carried the book back to Hermione and placed the open book before her.

Hermione's eyes opened wide in surprise. The mathemagical equation she had been staring at for the last two days was there right before her. Using a finger to keep her place, she partially closed the book to see which tome covered the equation of interest.

Luna's giggles grew louder as Hermione sighed.

"You know …" she told the giggling blond, "Harry's not going to find it nearly as amusing."

Luna happily bobbed her head up and down with a wide grin on her face.

"You do realize that we're going to have to confirm this."

"Don't worry, Hermione. I'll be right back." Skipping over to the chamber entrance, Luna called out through the door, "Albert! We'll need a minion test subject. It's dangerous, so it should be someone expendable."

Hermione shook her head in resignation. Part of her knew that she should be outraged by the idea of any minion being expendable, but this was for Harry. She even considered herself expendable if it would in some way benefit her master.

It was only a few moments before Luna returned with a grinning Brown. She saw the sad look on Hermione's face and decided to do something nice for the minion. "Do you have a name yet, little one?"

"No, miztress. Me not have one."

"Well, you do now. Your name is TeeDee. It's stands for Test Dummy."

The little creature bounced happily. "Tank youz, miztress! TeeDee tanks youz!"

Hermione smiled at the obvious joy of the creature. "Please stand over there, TeeDee. Luna is going to cast a few spells at you. It could be fatal, however."

"Okayz!" With a happy chirp, the Brown bounced over to the spot indicated.

Luna moved over to stand beside Hermione. "Are you ready?" At her nod, Luna took hold of her wand and said, "On the count of three. One … two … three! _Avada Kedavra!_"

A thin beam leaped from Luna's wand glowing the sickly green feared by wizards and witches everywhere. There was a small _whooshing_ sound as the beam approached the Brown and hit it in the center of its chest. As it struck, there was a loud _crack_ and the minion was thrown back, rolling over twice, before coming to a stop.

Luna and Hermione watched as the creature stood up and brushed a scorch mark off its chest. "Ouchee!"

Luna looked to Hermione and grinned. Hermione merely shook her head. "Nope. Harry's not going to find it funny in the slightest."

After their breakthrough, all the pieces seemed to fall into place. Studying the interrelationship of Harry, the tower, and the Overlord's magic, new possibilities seemed to present themselves at a phenomenal rate. For the next two days, they spent their mornings with Albert going over the magics of the Tower Heart and the spellstones (with Hermione discussing temporal mechanics with Albert in lieu of breaks) and spending the evenings in poring through Luna's tomes, coming up with a syllabus for Harry to use upon his return.

On the eve of Harry's final approach to the small dwarven village, two tired women entered Harry's chambers laughing and chatting comfortably. Once inside, Hermione turned towards the Ravenclaw. "Luna … there's something I want to ask you. Could we speak privately for a second?"

"Certainly, Hermione. What's up?"

"Just a second." Walking over to a corner of the room, Hermione spoke towards an empty space in the corner. "Could you Greens leave us for a few minutes? We've got some girl-talk to discuss."

Luna raised her eyebrows in surprise. There was silence for a few minutes before five Greens faded into view with sheepish expressions on their faces.

"I knew they were there, Hermione. But how did you know?"

"Give me some credit, please. They've been covering up their normal odor with perfumes. That smell is always in an empty corner and it's not something either of us or Harry would wear."

The Greens looked towards the official mistress for instructions. At Luna's nod, the five minions slunk out of the room in embarrassment.

Once they were gone, Luna turned to Hermione. "Now what did you want to – URKK!"

After Hermione's knee impacted on her stomach, Luna quickly found herself face down on the floor. Hermione's knee was then between Luna's shoulder blades, her left palm was pressing hard on the juncture of Luna's skull and spine, and Luna's right arm was painfully extended straight up into the air behind her back, the elbow locked, the arm rotated to apply further pressure, and palm forced inwards toward her arm to the point where Luna thought her wrist would break.

Hermione coldly hissed to the blond beneath her. "You're guilty of manipulating the mind of an Unspeakable. Before I kill you, I just want to know WHY!"

*****Kind'a rough but see rant below. I'll probably smooth it out sometime before Book II, but I just wanted to get this chappie done with.**

*****I've been using computers since 'Men were Men and had 8" floppies'. I've never bought into "corrupted file" stories having never experienced one since I started with a TRS-80 Mod 1 lvl 2 with a datassette for storage (Hey! You could get 240K on a 30 minute cassette tape if I remember right!). Both this chapter and chapter 3 ended up corrupted. After realizing the connection between the two, I was not angry enough to abandon the story, but I was angry enough to let it languish a few weeks. Don't buy into the LibreOffice and OpenOffice hype! The compatibility is "iffy." If you move several times between one of them and a **_**real**_** word processor, you may end up with a file which cannot be opened by MS Word, cannot be found with the compatible processor, and can only be opened by WordPad. Of course, the result has a space inserted every other character, all formatting removed, and most punctuation replaced by graphic characters. If you can't afford a real word processor, go ahead and use them … but **_**don't**_** work on the file with anything else, "compatible" or not! ***_**pant, pant**__*** **_**Okay … rant over. Stay tuned, the wait on the next chapter shouldn't be nearly as long.**


	9. Mione and Mines

*****Yes, the fear of JKR remains strong in this one (moreso of her lawyers). I must sheepishly admit, however, that there are more lawyers out there. To all those owning a piece of the Overlord video game, I apologize for not groveling before thy might earlier and assure you that I am in no way trying to cut into your action, either. Please don't sue.**

*****This chapter should mark the end of the pseudo-psychobabble used to get a certain character to where I wanted her to be … at least for right now. Heading back to Albuquerque and taking a **_**right**_** instead of a left should get the show back on the road. Once on that road … it'll be time tah get back to da killin'! Yay!**

**Chapter 9**

**Mione and Mines**

_When last we left, Hermione the Unspeakable had made her "recovery" known and was asking Luna a question she __**really**__ wanted the answer to: Why?_

"Behkoth 'e nehth euw!"

"What?"

"BEHKOTH 'E NEHTH EUW! Enth euw nehth 'em."

Hermione looked down at the girl beneath her. Seeing the way that Luna's face was pressed against the floor, she realized that – even though Luna was in a good submission hold – she probably wasn't in the best of interrogation holds. As an Unspeakable, Hermione had received basic Auror training. Because of her involvement in the war versus Voldemort, the DMLE had decided to give her additional training to near Hit Wizard standards. They had thought to use her as a trouble-shooter of some sort if one should ever be required. She was not an interrogator, however. She was playing this completely by ear.

Giving up the "crunch point" on Luna's neck, Hermione shifted her grip to Luna's hair and pulled her head up from the floor.

"OWW!"

"Shut it!"

Luna remained quiet. None of her calculations had seen this as a possibility. Hermione turning hostile? Roughly a sixty-three percent probability in the beginning. Managing to pull off a subservient demeanor and THEN becoming hostile? Snorkacks would be a different color and have wings!

"My mindscape was a wreck." God, Hermione hated to admit that. "You've been influencing my recovery … guiding me to your own ends. WHY?"

Luna licked her lips and tasted blood. Her lip had been split when she had been forced to the floor. "Will you grant me that you will doubt anything that I would say?"

Hermione snorted. "Of course!"

"Then will you allow me to ask _you_ questions? Your answers will answer your own question and you will know that you get the truth."

Shite! Hermione _hated_ Socratic arguments. They were more an argument of logical constructions designed to lead one to a particular conclusion rather than a straightforward comparison of facts. Still … she was confident in her own ability to detect faulty logic paths. "You've got forty-five seconds."

Luna took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. "Answer my questions honestly if you wish to get the answer to your own question. If Harry wanted to watch you have sex with me … would you?"

_What the hell kind of question was that?_ _Maybe everyone was right and Luna _is_ completely insane. _"Of course!"

"If he asked you to kill someone … a complete stranger or even a friend … would you?"

"Yes. I don't see your –"

"If Harry asked you to kill yourself … would you do so?"

"Harry would never ask that!"

"That's beside the point, Hermione. If Harry asked you to die for him, would you?"

Hermione stared at the girl beneath her. What was the answer Luna was hoping to lead her to? "Yes. Yes, I would," she said slowly.

"Would your answers to my questions have been the same if I had asked you three months ago?"

"I … I didn't know Harry was still alive."

"Irrelevant. Yes or no?"

"I don't … I don't know?" Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. Why had she responded in that way? The easiest, most truthful way to answer these types of questions was to answer with the first thing that came to mind. She had done so. Why had uncertainty been her first response?

_Interesting._ "How about when you were thirteen? That was before the Tri-Wizard tournament, yes? How would you have answered then?"

"That was the year Harry rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets. I think so … yes. I think I would have given the same answers."

_Hmm. Even more interesting. Still uncertain, but closer to an affirmative than for the recent past. _"Think? And does your answer make any sense to you? Think about the person you were, then. Picture situations you found yourself in and the way you reacted. Look upon your memories of that time as though you were a disinterested observer. Would that thirteen-year-old girl have answered yes?"

Hermione frowned and shook her head as she reflected. "No … no, she – I – wouldn't have." Luna yelped as Hermione increased the torque upon her arm. "What did you do to me?" she growled.

Luna's reply was very soft. "Would that same girl have accepted Harry as he is now? Knowing what he has done? Would you still have cared for the man that _you_ helped turn him into?"

Hermione felt as if she had received a physical blow. She now knew that answer … and loathed it. "No," sighed Hermione. "_That_ girl wouldn't have. Care for him? Yes. _Accept_ him? No." Even though she maintained her hold, she did lessen the pressure on Luna's arm. "But I am no longer that girl."

"Now you know the 'why.' The only question left is: Which girl do you wish to be?"

Hermione's entire body seemed to tense up. Images from her past up through her sixth year at Hogwarts seemed to flash before her eyes as if viewed through a stroboscope.

The utter loneliness of her years in the muggle schools. Discovering that she was a witch. Getting a fresh start in the wizarding world and finding everything turning out the same … until being saved and befriended by a scrawny, bespectacled boy with unruly hair and the most soulful eyes she had ever seen. The adventures she had shared with him. The quiet times she had shared with him. And finally … her being a party to his murder.

As tears fell from Hermione's eyes she responded, "I belong to Harry. I won't have it any other way. But why did you do this to me? What was in it for _you_?" Her anger quickly quenched by the revelation, she released Luna's arm.

Luna shrugged as well as she was able. "I want him to be happy. And I believe that he will never be happy without you … without his Hermione … at his side."

Standing up, Hermione slowly offered Luna her hand. Accepting it, Luna stood up and rubbed her right arm and shoulder. "I do want you to know, however … if you should ever betray him again, I don't care what happens to me. I will do everything within my power to make sure that you die the most painful death I can possibly arrange."

Hermione smiled at the Ravenclaw through her tears. "Thank you, Luna. For that AND the mindfuck."

Luna laughed, never having heard the expression. "You're welcome."

Hermione moved over to sit on Harry's bed. Luna turned away, deciding to leave her alone for now, and headed for the door after picking up her wand from where it had fallen.

"Luna?"

Stopping, Luna turned back to face the person she was convinced was the love of her master's life. "Yes, Hermione?"

"I know this sounds stupid … but it seems that you're the closest thing to a psychologist available. Would you help me?" Hermione was ashamed to ask for aid so shortly after threatening the smaller girl's life, but she found herself with no other options.

"Of course. What do you need?"

"Would you … would you enter my mindscape? It would probably be easier to show you."

"You're not going to slam my mind to the ground and twist my cerebral cortex, are you?"

Hermione chuckled. "No, I won't. But where did you hear that term?"

"I once picked up a muggle anatomy book. It wasn't what I thought it was about, though," she shrugged. Drawing her wand, she aimed it at Hermione. "Ready?"

At her nod, Luna intoned, "_Legilimens!_"

With Hermione's consent, slipping into her mind was easy. Carefully guided to Hermione's inner mindscape, Luna appeared in the Library with Hermione there waiting for her.

Luna looked around, amazed by the amount of work which must have been done. The place had been meticulously organized and appeared spotless. Beside a large antique workdesk, she smiled at her first viewing of _Harry: A History._ Beside the desk, the massive book lay atop a column of stone which came right out of the floor. A heavy chain attached the locked book to the top of the column and a thick glass case – also locked – protected the book. Around the case and the column itself, Luna saw a number of inscribed runes, some of which she recognized as being quite deadly for anyone not keyed into the ward created.

Luna had to grin at the brunette. "Do you think it's secure enough?"

Hermione blushed and stuck her tongue out.

Chuckling, Luna approached Hermione but not before noticing the books on the first row of the hutch above the workdesk. Behind the locked glass panel fronting the shelf, she saw all the books she had loaned to Hermione from her personal collection. Because of their location, she realized that they were now a primary part of Hermione's new psyche.

"I don't quite understand, Hermione. Given your inner-prioritization … how did I get that visit from 'scary, Unspeakable Hermione'?"

"Even though I'm Harry's slave, it doesn't mean that I'm a slave. By _choosing_ to be his slave, I am free."

Luna simply stared at her and finally cocked her head to the side.

Hermione simply stared back.

Luna eventually just shrugged. "As long as that makes sense to one of us." Deciding to let the matter drop, Luna asked, "So why did you invite me here?"

Hermione sighed and pointed towards the fireplace. Before it, a loveseat and two comfortable chairs surrounded a low table. On that table was a stack of books, their identical bindings revealing that they were part of a set. Also on that table lay a large photo album.

"Those are the only books left to be reshelved … and I have no idea what to do about them."

Approaching the table, Luna glanced down at the titles. "Oh, dear."

The photo album was actually a wedding album … for Ronald and Hermione Weasley. The top book on the stack was entitled _Morals & Ethics, Vol. I of XI,_ by Dan and Emma Granger.

"I take it that you see the problem. I won't be a complete person until these are taken care of. And I need to be complete for Harry." Hermione ran her fingers along the cover of her parent's teachings. "I know what's in them, of course, but as soon as I put them on a shelf … they'll become a part of my psyche."

"And you would likely either reject Harry or drive yourself insane," nodded Luna. Moving to sit down, Luna steepled her fingers before her and examined the problem. She knew that it would be a bad idea to simply throw them in the fireplace. That would be akin to an Obliteration of massive proportions. Hermione would probably end up next to Lockhart in the Janus Thickey ward.

Luna smiled as an idea came to her. "Hermione … have you ever taken the position of Mordred's second?"

Hermione gave her a blank look. "I've never even heard of it."

"A 'second' is usually a friend or a confidante. They will usually stand with a person during duels or be part of certain financial or familial contracts in the wizarding world. They may also advise or be used as sounding boards. Mordred's second helps the individual by being contrary or posing opposite views to help someone make plans or think things through."

"A devil's advocate," smiled Hermione. "That just might work! The knowledge is there, but just for informational purposes only! It's never really believed or acted upon. Luna, you're brilliant!"

Luna simply smiled and nodded in agreement.

Hermione picked up several volumes and headed deeper into her Library. Picking up the rest, Luna followed her. Stopping in the "fiction" section, Hermione found a vacant shelf and carefully shelved the first volume. She paused for a moment and looked around nervously as if waiting for the world to end. When no apocalypse followed, she smiled in relief and started putting up the rest of the set.

Now it was Hermione's turn to smile and nod. "Well, that seemed to work. Do you have any ideas for the album?"

Luna's expression grew sad. "None at all. If I think of anything, I'll let you know. I fear you may end up having to take the hex."

Hermione looked at the blond and blinked several times. Finally shaking her head at the expression, she lead Luna back to the fireplace near the center of her Library. Once there, the two of them stared at the sole remaining book … the wedding album.

"Perhaps you could file it away as 'fiction' as well?"

Hermione shook her head. "I think it's too interwoven with my years after Hogwarts. It might affect my time as an Unspeakable and reduce my ability to help Albert and Harry. I think you are probably right about my having to –" Hermione couldn't help but grin, "—take the hex. It'll probably be shelved under either mistakes or regrets." Stepping forward, she extended her hand towards the album. Right before there was actual contact, however, she snatched back her trembling hand. "But not today."

xXxXx

Surrounded by his troops, Harry moved through the pass between Golden Fields and the dwarven mines. Before his army was the massive stone wall which defended both the mines and brewery. Harry smiled, remembering that the brewery was the most heavily defended location in the community. The dwarves lived in a small village nearby but would retreat here in times of danger.

The Overlord had sent a small detachment of troops to the village to locate and secure the Elder's home. If they met with resistance, his troops were to retreat. Otherwise, they would simply await his return from the mines.

To the right of the stone wall, a wooden platform extended out into the pass increasing the amount of space available to defenders. Harry formed a sad smile seeing it again. The last time he had been here, he and his minions had been rushing about dodging explosive barrels thrown by the dwarven defenders positioned there.

_Ah … those were good times!_

Harry had come to enjoy being the Overlord but he had been happiest when first establishing his rule. He had spent his time fighting alongside his minions, conquering towns and villages, and recovering treasures like the spellstones stolen from the tower when the previous Overlord had been overthrown.

Now it seemed that all his time – at least the portion not spent with his mistresses – was spent as an administrator. He barely managed to contain a shudder of disgust.

Thinking of his mistresses, Harry smiled as his thoughts wandered to what was likely going on around his campaign tent back at the encampment at Golden Fields. Juno, his "Roman Barbie," was likely having a few minions buff her toenails or something equally silly. If it weren't for the fact that she probably had the most perfect breasts he had ever seen and a crackin' arse to boot, he would've tossed her out of the tower long ago.

Kelda had probably managed to elude her bodyguards again and was – by now – probably hoisting some felled buck up a tree in preparation of skinning and dressing it.

Harry's grin grew wider. He no longer even bothered to reprimand anyone assigned as a guard for the petite redhead. Winding up lost and floundering around in a thorn bush or the like with no Kelda in sight had become almost a right-of-passage for his human troops.

The Overlord had considered bringing Fay along on this trip, too, but the ex-elven queen and dwarves did not mix well. He would have to come up with some special treat for her. She had been just as patient and understanding as the rest of his mistresses.

In other words, "not very" and "not at all."

But once the Overlord had put his foot down, they had sullenly obeyed.

Before his first trip to England, he had warned all of his mistresses that it might be awhile before he showed them the attention he normally did, correctly believing that he would be too busy. That had indeed turned out to be the case but not in the way he or they had expected. His time had been consumed by the two new women … one of which had already been made an official mistress of the tower! Harry believed that bringing Kelda and Juno along with him on this outing was only fair. Or at the very least, it might shut them up for a few days.

After Harry and the majority of his troops stopped short before the gate, he nodded to one of his human commanders. The designated man double-timed it to stand before the massive gate. Looking up, the soldier bellowed, "The Overlord has arrived to inspect His holdings. Open the gate and do not obstruct His passage!"

The dwarves atop the wall froze in indecision. Harry chuckled, imagining he could almost hear the clanking of plate armor as they trembled. Waiting, he found himself eventually growing irritated at the delay and was just beginning to wonder how many Reducto's it would take to get to the center of a dwarven mine when a dwarf finally waved a signal to someone out of sight.

Passing through the now opened gate, Harry led his troops down the trail which led to the mines. While his human soldiers kept a vigilant watch, his minions glared at anything that moved … and even at a fair number of things which didn't.

Harry grinned as he watched a Brown cast a death-glare at a suspicious looking chair. Their loyalty was never in question. Their _intelligence_, however ….

Urging Hedwig to the fore of his cavalry unit, Harry led the way down the paths leading to the Arcanium mine. Surrounded by humans on horseback, Browns on wolves, Greens on giant spiders, and Reds on salamanders, Harry was not overly concerned with safety. Even without taking into consideration the mass of Browns on foot following behind, only the most insane or inebriated of dwarves would have considered showing any sign of hostility to the Overlord.

Upon reaching the mines proper, Harry dismounted his unicorn and asked it to stay with the rest of the cavalry group. Since unicorns bonded for life, their bond had held up even after Harry had "broken in" his tower servants. Because of that bond, Hedwig tolerated his bond-mate's followers, but Harry was still the only one who could control – or even safely approach – the proud steed.

As his troops spread out into a defensive formation, Harry marched up to the most officious looking dwarf outside of the mine. "Are you the dwarf in charge here?"

The dwarf being addressed paled. "I … I … I'm the Lead Supervisor, your Overlordship."

"Good. I don't want to talk to you. Fetch me one of your assistants." Seeing that the dwarf he addressed remained frozen in place, Harry added, "Now. Before you soil yourself."

It wasn't too long before a middle-aged dwarf was brought before Harry. The Lead Supervisor informed Harry that the dwarf, Geoff, was a mid-level foreman responsible for the lower North Eastern section of the mines. Harry merely nodded at the new arrival. "Follow us. I have an unscheduled meeting with your Elder and I'd like to have your input beforehand." With a whistle, Harry summoned Hedwig to him and was soon remounted. With a light flick of the reigns, Harry headed away from the mines at a slow walk. Geoff had been slow to follow, but the mass of Browns which now surrounded him urged him onwards.

Once they had gone back through the pass, Harry turned his forces towards the dwarven village. Once they were midway between the mines and the village, Harry called a brief halt and dismounted. Walking over to where Geoff stood, Harry smiled at the trembling foreman. Raising his left arm, the jewel in his gauntlet began to glow and an electrical crackling sound could be heard as Geoff began to shake and shudder where he stood. After a few moments, Harry lowered his arm and Geoff dropped to his knees. Once the strange sound had subsided, Geoff lifted himself unsteadily to his feet. The dwarf's eyes were glazed and his voice seemed distant as he proclaimed, "I am yours to command, master."

Harry nodded to his new Drone. "Let's talk about the mines, then, shall we?"

xXxXx

Harry currently sat in the largest chair in the common room of the Elder's home at the center of the dwarven village. Several guards stood around him as he observed the current Elder of the village and his family.

The current Elder was Bron, the brother of the dwarf who had been in charge when Harry had last been here roughly six to seven years ago. That particular dwarf had died six months previously and Bron had taken over the position of Elder.

One member of the family had caught Harry's attention almost immediately. Bron's youngest child, Gurten, did not look like a dwarf at all aside from her height. She stood at slightly less than a meter-and-a-quarter tall and did not have the barrel-shaped body typical of dwarves. Her family had seemed ashamed of her and likely considered her both sickly and scrawny. Harry actually found her quite attractive. She looked very much like a well developed human teenager who was just slightly stocky. Her blue eyes were almost cerulean in hue and she wore her blond hair in two braided pig-tails. When asked, Bron had said that his youngest was only twenty-nine.

Harry had considered asking how old that was in human years, but in the end decided that he really didn't want to know. Twenty-nine was good and the conversion might make him feel uncomfortable.

"So … Bron. Tell me about the mines."

"T'aint much te tell … sir. Prehduction's nay the same, but such 'appens time te time. Doesn't 'elp that me men be overworked. We ken only be pushed so long 'fores it be catchin' up te us."

Harry leaned back in his appropriated chair. "That's strange. That never seemed to be an issue when your brother was in charge."

"Well … sitchiations change."

"Oh, yes. Like the new Elder telling everyone to slow down production so 'that bastard of a tavern slag will be taught that dwarves t'aint be slaves te be ordered about.' Pardon me if I got your mangling of speech wrong." As Bron paled at hearing his own words, Harry added, "And don't worry, my good man … or dwarf. You aren't a slave. You – and your family, thanks to you – are what is more correctly referred to as the walking dead and soon … examples." As Harry's Browns rushed forward to grab the various family members, Harry took a sip of the Elder's private stash of ale. "Not bad … a '42, I think. My troops will raise a toast to you sometime before we depart."

Harry turned his attention to the major in charge of his human troops. "Take all but the girl to the brewery. Start setting the stage for an appropriate example. You'll get bonus marks for originality. And send a crier to circulate the village. Everyone's expected to bear witness."

As Bron and the majority of his family were dragged off, Harry examined the crying girl who had remained and which his Browns now brought closer to him. "Yes … I think you'll do fine, my dear." Raising his left arm, Harry whispered, "_Dominor_," as the amber jewel glowed and the crackle associated with the 'Evil Presence' spell filled the room. The familiar spasms wracked her body as the spell progressed from the pain to control stages of the dark magics. As she dropped to her knees, Harry ended the spell before her life was ripped from her.

"I am yours to command, master," came from the glassy-eyed dwarf once she had raised herself from the ground.

Harry smiled at his new Drone. "Gurten is such an ugly name. From now on, you will respond only to Minnie or Mini-Maxine. Now … let's get you ready for the show. Consider it practice for when you'll help me fulfill a promise." Turning his attention to the Browns who no longer held the young dwarf, Harry ordered "Go through the entire place. Bring me anything resembling a belt, baldric, or any kind of leather strap. She's got to have _something_ to wear while she helps me pass judgment on her family."

xXxXx

Standing before the brewery, Harry examined the preparations made by his troops. After some thought, he judged it tolerable but not overly impressive. Yes, crucifixions never went out of style, but they were hardly original. The fact that Bron and his family had been spiked to the wooden beams upside down didn't earn the extra marks, but it at least kept the event from being completely bland.

Harry turned around to see if enough of the local populace had arrived. He was eager to be finished with this. The example itself wouldn't bother him, but he really didn't like giving the speeches which needed to accompany them.

Harry sighed. Even though he hated public speaking, he knew that it was one duty even the Overlord couldn't delegate.

_Well, the sooner I get this over with the sooner I can get back to camp … and Kelda and Juno._

It looked like most, if not all, of the dwarves had arrived. They were nervously huddling together in small groups on the other side of the short stone bridge which crossed the dry moat surrounding the brewery. Amidst the crowd, an almost equal number of his minions circulated. Over the years, Harry had managed to teach the creatures the most basic concepts of crowd control. Anyone who ran or raised a weapon would be immediately piled upon and torn to shreds by all the minions nearby.

Walking around, Harry examined the crucified family. The young Drone, currently wearing a concealing cloak, trailed obediently behind him. Idly, Harry wondered how long it would take for them to die if they were simply mounted to the brewery walls as they were. Experience had shown him that crucifixion usually led to death by suffocation, but he doubted that would hold true if the victim were upside down. Oh well, he wasn't feeling patient enough to find out today, but it was definitely something to think about for the future.

Working out his speech in his head, Harry went over to Bron and pulled out a knife. Grabbing the moaning dwarf's beard in one hand, he cut it off with a quick swipe of the blade. The dwarf's sons had beards but they were short enough not to obscure their view of the proceedings.

At the Overlord's nod, Harry's troops lifted the wooden beams and set their bases into the holes dug against the wall of the brewery. Others filled in the holes to keep them in place. Lifting his rod, Harry added sticking charms to make sure they would stay there for quite some time. Seeing that the lowest of the lot were suspended with their heads no closer than three meters from the ground, Harry was finally satisfied and turned back to the gathered crowd. Moving forward, he pulled the cloak from his unresisting Drone and allowed the crowd to see the last member of Bron's family.

The girl was clothed – if one could call it that – in only several small strips of leather. The widest was a thick belt shortened to encircle her neck. An extremely thin strip of leather which had been one of her father's suspenders had been magically lengthened; it was now cinched tightly around the Drone's chest and served to emphasize rather than conceal. Another leather belt encircled her waist, obviously painfully tight. A final leather strap descended from the front of that belt and came up the rear to be secured to the back of the belt. Aside from being another shock to the crowd, the "outfit" was designed to be another slap in the face to her father.

Harry knew that dwarves were in many ways like Pure-Bloods. Family was all-important to them, but it was all about clans and blood rather than politics. One's kin was a source of pride to the dwarves and not chess pieces to be maneuvered or even sacrificed for an advantage.

Lifting his rod to his throat, Harry cast a Sonorus on himself. "Seeing your current Elder behind me, I would hope that all of you realize why I am here. Bron is not the only one responsible for what will befall him. All of you who agreed to follow his plan to piss me off share the blame. Bron shall serve as a warning. Go against me and you forfeit not only your own life … you forfeit the lives of your kinfolk as well."

Harry twisted in a half-turn to direct his next comments to the suspended Elder. "Bron, for your crimes against me and your arrogance in challenging the Overlord, you will now see the end of your line." Adopting a lecherous smile for the Elder's benefit, Harry placed his free hand on Minnie's bare shoulder. "But you may console yourself before your passing that – if it should amuse me to do so – your line _may_ continue one day in the form of a few half-breed bastards."

Ignoring the howls of anger, hurled insults, and whimpering pleas from the family, the Overlord turned to his Drone and handed her a knife. In a just a few words, he explained his desire and used a finger to trace a line on his own body for further clarification. Minnie walked over to stand under her youngest brother and waited.

Once she was in position, the Overlord pointed his rod at her and muttered, "_Wingardium Leviosa._" Harry had to chuckle; he never could cast that charm with a straight face. Every time he used it, he couldn't help but hear a familiar voice in the back of his head explaining, "It's lev-ee-_OH_-sa, not lev-ee-oh-_SAH_!"

The young dwarf drifted up into the air. Once her upward movement halted, she calmly traced a line across her brother's abdomen with the knife. She continued to widen the cut until his entrails began to spill forth from the wound and slither down past his own head.

There was no change to Minnie's expression. Unaffected by either the blood or screams of her family, she continued the process as she was moved to float before her eldest brother, then her mother, and finally her own father.

Returning his Drone to the ground, Harry looked upon her handiwork. Nodding his satisfaction, he returned his attention to the stunned crowd. "I truly hope that one warning was enough. There will not be a second. You may all return to your homes now. And have a nice day."

xXxXx

Hermione was a nervous wreck. She and Luna had been arguing since the day before. Luna had actually agreed that Hermione should force herself to call their master "Harry" rather than by his proper title … at least most of the time. They had been expecting his return any day now and had been discussing how best to reintroduce Hermione to him.

The crux of their argument was Hermione's choice in attire. Luna started off suggesting a vinyl and PVC outfit she had picked up in London during her shopping spree with Harry. Once that was rejected, she kept pushing for at least an elegant dress which exposed plenty of cleavage and leg. If not that, then at least Luna's old Hogwarts uniform shrunk to the point of being scandalous. Luna even offered to change the Ravenclaw colors to Hermione and Harry's old house colors!

Hermione had instead requested to borrow some of the casual-wear that Luna tended to wear in the brush while searching for evidence of her strange, magical creatures. After plenty of magical adjustments reluctantly provided by the blond, Hermione looked at the end result in a mirror. She wore pink and white trainers, blue jeans, and a plain purple T-shirt. She had changed her hairstyle to something less mature, something more akin to the styles she had worn in her teenage years.

Outriders had already reached the tower with the news of the Overlord's imminent arrival. Hermione stared at her reflection almost shaking with fear. _What will mas—Harry … what will Harry think? Will he like it? Or do I just look like some middle-aged woman trying to look ten years younger?_

Concentrating on her Occlumency, Hermione repressed the outer evidence of her inner terror and headed for the throne room to await Harry's arrival.

The two witches didn't have long to wait. As they had previously agreed upon, Luna approached the Overlord upon his arrival while Hermione stood behind one of the demon statues which lined the room.

Luna skipped up to Harry and gave him a quick hug. "Harry … I've got some good news, some bad news, and some weird news," she announced.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Do I even want to know what you would consider 'weird' news?"

"Well, Hermione doesn't seem to think so."

Looking around, Harry asked, "Where is she, anyway? I kind'a thought she'd be here."

Luna smiled brightly. "That's the good news."

Taking that as her cue, Hermione stepped into the room proper and smiled at Harry, forcing all the love for her master she could into it. "Welcome back, Harry."

Harry stood frozen, completely stunned. It was immediately obvious to him that this was not the woman he had left at the tower barely over a week ago. "Mi—Mione?"

"Yes, Harry. _Your_ Mione." Seeing the hopeful smile haltingly forming on Harry's face, Hermione muttered, "Oh, _fuck this_!" and launched herself at him.

Once again, Harry was struck by what was in effect a bushy-haired, thirteen-year-old, buck-toothed missile which tried her best to crush him in her arms. "I've missed you so much, Harry!"

This time, her target hugged her back and pulled her tightly against his chest. "I've missed you, too, Hermione. I've missed you, too."

Watching the young couple cling to each other, Luna smiled in satisfaction. After a few minutes, her smile turned into a frown. "Oh, shoot! It looks like the rest of the news will likely have to wait until tomorrow!"

***** Monkeybanger's note: Bron was kind of an experiment. This Harry **_**is**_** an Evil Bastiche even though he prefers threats and making examples over wholesale slaughter. Not that he'd be adverse to it, but it would be a last resort. Should his villainy remain more "off camera," so to speak? Mostly off camera with something a bit more graphic thrown in every once in a while to shake things up? Enquiring monkeybanger wants to know!**

***** Thanks for the comments and guesses and observations everyone. Hopefully, everyone will at least be able to tolerate my plans for Dark Hermione.**


	10. Prezzies, Plans, and News

***** I do not own Harry Potter or make any profit off the franchise … yet. Maybe the spiked chocolates, flowers, and messages filled with subliminals sent to JKR will work. Only time will tell.**

***** Sheesh, y'all are a bloodthirsty, lemon-loving lot of minions! So am I, but I'm not sure I can do it justice. I'll work on it, though. But remember … "Baby steps, Luna. Baby steps." As a Luna-heavy chapter, this one is semi-crack'd … but the magical dissertation affects/explains future events. Luna took me there by accident, but it will smooth out some of the bumps I saw down the road.**

**Chapter 10**

**Prezzies, Plans, and the Rest of the News**

Luna shook her head at the couple before her. _It's a good thing that they're __**not**__ kids. If they didn't know to breathe through their noses, they would have suffocated by now!_ Realizing that the snog-fest was not ending anytime soon, Luna decided that the time was ripe.

"Harry?"

No response.

"Yoo-hoo … Maaaaster!"

This time, Luna thought she heard an annoyed grunt.

"A moment of your time?"

Another grunt (with a second grunt echoing it) was followed by one arm unwrapping itself from Hermione and making a shooing motion.

"One request and I'll leave you two alone. Can I use the portal and a few minions to pick up some presents in England?"

Once again, Harry's response was a grunt (but the echo now sounded more like a growl).

"Please? With sugar on top … or on me, later, or maybe whipped cream, but no cherry I'm afraid."

A grunt followed by a louder growl was followed by a thumb's up and another shooing motion. Without breaking the kiss, Harry scooped Hermione up into his arms and headed for the stairs which led to the Overlord's private chambers.

Luna happily bounced the few steps necessary to stand before Gnarl and clasped her hands behind her back. Lifting and lowering herself on the balls of her bare feet, she looked at the aged minion expectantly.

Gnarl shook his head ruefully. "He has no idea what he agreed to, does he?"

"Nope!" she beamed.

"I don't think it would be wise –"

Luna pouted. "Darn! While I was there I was planning on picking up a new paddle I've heard about. It has holes all through it so it whistles when you swing it!"

Gnarl stared at the once again smiling blond-demon-from-the-Underworld-here-to-specifically-torment-Gnarl for a moment, and then finally sighed his surrender. "What will you be needing, Mistress?"

"Three Browns and five Greens should do. And anything you have that looks like pillowcases, socks, or tea cozies. Don't worry … I'll be very careful!" Luna then tapped herself on her head with her wand. Her scraggly curls straightened and her hair changed to a platinum shade so bright it almost appeared white.

"Very well, Mistress." Gnarl tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that the Overlord _had_ agreed to Mistress Luna's request … basically.

Once the eight minions had congregated in the throne room, Luna squatted before them. "I can't link to you like our master can, so we all have to be very careful. Our primary concern is to not get caught by the authorities of where we're going."

"Weez going to Place-of-Mastah's-Spawning?" asked one of the Browns.

Luna smiled at the creature. "Yes. Yes we are."

All eight of the minions began to leap in joy. Even though they were evidently not going there with the Overlord, it was still to be considered a great honor.

"Now _just in case_," their mistress continued, "I want you all to remember this: You are _house elves_ that have been in a magical accident. Also, if you get captured and questioned, you have been ordered not to reveal your master's name. But kill yourself before being questioned if at all possible. Now … how many of you have names?"

The minions all looked at each other and eventually they all started shaking their heads.

"That's alright. But you'll have to make up something if any of you get caught." Luna crinkled her brows in thought. "Just to be safe, make up something with two syllables ending in 'y' or 'ie.'"

As one, all the minions started shaking their heads vehemently. A Green spoke before any of the others could and declared, "Weez no makes names! Only Mastah or Miztress canz make names!" The rest all pumped their heads in agreement."

Luna frowned for a moment, then she smiled upon remembering a muggle history book she had picked up on the same day as that dreadful anatomy book which had nothing to do with some variation of anal sex. She started pointing to the minions as she called out names. "Okay … you are Sleepy, Sneezy, Dopey, Happy, Grumpy, urm … Bashful, and … Doc."

The wide smile on the last of the Greens turned into a sad expression which almost broke Luna's heart. "And meez, mistress? Meez no get name?"

"Of course you do! Uhm …." Luna wracked her brain for something that would fit in with the rest but couldn't come up with anything for the odd-minion-out. Finally, she just made up a name. "You are going to go by 'Shempie.' No, that doesn't sound right. I guess the naming pattern is not really a law … so 'Shemp' will be your name."

"Tank youz, mistress!" With wide smiles, the other minions all nodded in agreement. This was proving to be a spectacular day! Not only were they going to their master's spawning place, they had all been awarded names!

By the time of the last naming, another minion had scuttled next to Luna with bundles of cloth in his arms. Very few of the items were suitable, so Luna pulled her wand from behind her ear and started to Transfigure items before handing them out to Shemp and the seven minions. With a small giggle, she added a golden "M" to two of the towels and one of the pillowcases she ended up distributing. One could never be _too_ careful, after all. As she helped them attire themselves as ridiculously as possible, she sent the extra minion to her quarters to fetch her a heavy cloak. She would try to avoid being spotted, but hoped to misdirect people if such could not be avoided.

Standing up straight, Luna led her team of minions to the watery gate near the end of the room. "Now everyone remember the rules and don't forget where we gated." Glancing over towards Gnarl, she cheerily waved. "Can you send us someplace close to St. Mungo's, please?"

xXxXx

"Harry?"

"Hrrmm?"

"Can we talk –" Hermione couldn't suppress a small gasp, "—for a minute?"

"Do we have to? I'm still having fun here!" Harry adopted a mock pout but continued to slowly encircle a nipple with his thumb.

"Hmmm. That's fun for me too … but we'll have all the time in the world for that later. Besides," the brunette found herself almost purring as Harry's thumb slowly trailed its way across her chest to visit the twin and pay its respects, "it's important."

Harry sighed. "It's not fair! I'm a _nice_ Overlord; I don't just roll over and fall asleep after sex. But why do all my women want to have serious conversations during the intermissions? Haven't any of you ever heard of basking in the afterglow?"

"Poor baby. We're all so evil to our beloved master."

"Damn right!" Harry grinned as he flicked a nail over the most sensitive part of his current playground.

"Come on, please? Look at me."

Harry grinned. "I am."

"_Up here_ for a moment!" she tried to huff but failed.

"Since we're on our sides, I believe that would technically be to my left, then?"

"Harry_ …_ _please!_"

"Oh, alright. What's so important that it can't wait until after we catch our breath, have sex, catch our breath again, have sex again –"

"Harry!"

"Okay, okay," he capitulated. "What do we so desperately _need_ to talk about?"

"I'm worried about your plans."

"You have a problem with me getting my revenge?"

"No! Of course not! I'm worried about you taking on Dumbledore. He's a powerful wizard! If you plan to use subterfuge instead of facing him directly, you have to remember that he's not only powerful politically, but that he's been manipulating people himself for probably close to a hundred years!"

Harry smiled. "It's a good thing I don't plan on doing either, then."

"Then what … what … what on earth are you looking at _now_?"

"There's a tiny drop of sweat just at the tip of your nose."

"Both of us are covered in sweat, you … you …."

"Yes, but it's a very _cute_ drop of sweat!"

"Stop that, you prat! I'm worried for you! Please talk to me."

"Okay, but let me take care of this so I can concentrate." Leaning toward her, he quickly licked the dollop off the tip of her nose. "Hmm. Slightly salty."

Hermione had to chuckle at the Overlord. "Good! We're even, then."

"But not bad! Not bad at all! It's actually quite tasty, in fact! Why, I'll be happy to lick lots of sweat off of you! And often!"

"As I said," she leered, "that makes us even. _Now_, can you concentrate?"

"After that comment? Are you kidding?"

"_Harry!_"

Sighing in resignation, Harry comfortably draped his arm over Hermione's hip. "I didn't become the Overlord and survive this long by being stupid, Hermione. I'm not going to try to take him on face-to-face in some kind of spell battle. That worked _so well_ for me against Voldemort! I'm also not going to try to out-manipulate the old bastard. In England, he knows where more skeletons are buried than I do."

"Then what are you planning on doing?" asked Hermione, puzzled.

"Well, it's a work in progress. I'll figure it out while I clear his board of pawns and mess with his head. In the end, I'll simply change the game to one that I'll win. Overlord's don't fight fair. In a war of attrition, for example … well, I have a hell of a lot more minions than he does. But it'll probably be something simple … like throwing several hundred minions at him while a dominated SAS sniper sets up for a shot at him from a looong ways away."

Hermione opened her mouth and then closed it. She repeated the action several times. "Are you serious?" she finally managed.

Harry grinned at the obvious opening but didn't go for the joke. She had delighted him with more than enough openings already today. "I'm not saying that's what I'll end up doing, but that's the direction I'm thinking in. As I said, it's a work in progress."

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "Oh, Harry."

The Overlord groaned. "Merlin, that has _always_ driven me barmy!" With a growl, he moved towards her and then rolled them over, sliding her legs to either side of his own as he moved atop her once again. "This intermission is over!"

"Oh! Harry!"

xXxXx

Gnarl was pacing back and forth before the gate. _No! Portal! Marvelous … now the master has even me doing it!_ Wringing his claws nervously, he simply _knew_ that something had gone wrong. His master's newest mistress had been gone for hours, and the aged minion knew that he would undoubtedly be held responsible.

After the first hour, he had tried to calm his nerves by wandering down to the dungeon after instructing a minion to fetch him as soon as Mistress Luna returned. Upon his arrival, his mood had immediately lightened after hearing the soothing crack of a whip followed by a shriek of pain.

_Ahh … Mistress Velvet must be down here! I had almost forgotten about the prisoners that Talbot fellow had brought. Lovely chap … he had even remembered to bring that standing order of seal nuggets with him. I always hate it when the current errand boy forgets!_

There had been a slight lull in the melodious sounds which had acted as a balm to his frazzled nerves, so the ancient minion had followed the whimpers which had replaced them to their source. Yes, whimpers had their place in the scheme of things, Gnarl admitted, but they were nowhere near as invigorating as a soul-wrenching scream of complete agony.

He had found Mistress Velvet examining various implements of torture mounted upon a rack, obviously trying to choose which brush to use next to continue working on her composition. Her long, glossy black hair had been tied back in a ponytail and she wore only a tiny black bustier trimmed in purple, blood-red knickers, and short boots.

Gnarl knew that she liked to do her "work" in such attire for two reasons … well, three … three reasons. She was amused by the effect of her ensemble on the men she tortured, but she primarily liked having a great deal of skin exposed to the blood splatter which resulted from her tender ministrations. The wench actually believed that the sanguine fluid helped keep her skin soft and wrinkle-free! Fortunately, she was not so gauche as to even consider actually bathing in it like some psychotic savage. The third, Gnarl was certain, was that she never knew when the Overlord might come down to see a session for himself and she relished the effect her appearance had on their lord.

"Ah, Mistress Velvet … I hope that I'm not interrupting you."

Velvet had raised her eyebrow at that. "Of course not, Gnarl. I'm more than capable of holding a conversation while continuing upon my tasks. Was there something you needed of me?"

"No … no. I merely found myself out of sorts and thought that a quick visit here might relax me, milady."

The Overlord's second mistress had chuckled at that, the sound of it oozing with seductive promises of both pain and pleasure. "I understand completely, Minion Master. The Dark One has been … preoccupied … as of late, and I, too, have found myself in need of some sort of release."

"I have gotten the impression that our sire will probably continue in such a state for a while yet. It is understandable, however … access to his vengeance had been denied him for eight years." Gnarl thought it likely best not to mention the two new women in the tower. "Perhaps you and Dark Fay could assist each other? If you'll pardon my saying so, the two of you are the most similar in temperament of all the mistresses, and I am sure that she is experiencing similar needs."

Velvet had just finished selecting a cat-o'-nine-tails and had started gliding over to the whimpering shell of the captive but stopped. Pondering Gnarl's words, she had tapped the wrapped leather handle against her chin. The ex-queen was arrogant beyond measure, but she did share Velvet's love for both the finer and darker things in life. "That idea might have some merit, Gnarl."

Gnarl had grinned in return. With a mocking bow, he had added, "I never claimed to be _just_ a pretty face, milady."

Velvet's tinkling laugh had been that of an innocent child … oddly unsettling coming from one such as her. With a casual flick of her wrist, she had tossed the selected implement towards the minion. "Why don't you continue for me, for a bit? I believe that your suggestion bears investigation."

"I'm … I would be honored, mistress. Are you certain you wouldn't rather I start on a fresh captive and leave your unfinished work to await your return?"

Velvet had snorted at that point. "Spare me the false humility, minion. I have seen your handiwork in the past and will freely admit that your skills approach my own. I know that I am leaving this wretch in good … claws."

Smiling at Velvet's acknowledgment of his own skills, Gnarl had watched the mistress leave. For the next hour, he had then lost himself in the joys of replacing hope within another sentient being with pain and fear. He was honored to hold the position of the Overlord's Minion Master, but the demands on his time did regretfully keep him away from such simple joys.

But his agitation had almost immediately returned after he had left the haven of the dungeons.

And it was now three hours later.

A resigned Gnarl, quill in hand, was on the twelfth page of his own eulogy when ripples appeared on the surface of the portal. The waters in the pool began to glow, catching Gnarl's attention and announcing the impending arrival of … someone.

A smiling Mistress Luna was the first to appear in the chamber. She waved at the Minion Master. "C'hello, Gnarl. Did you miss us?"

Gnarl didn't know whether he should be relieved, faint, or begin a killing rampage. In the end, he opted for staring blankly at the unusual girl.

Moving away from the portal, Luna made room for the arrival of four minions carrying a large sack. As that group moved forward, another four appeared in the throne room carrying a thick roll of carpet.

"Why don't you fellows go and secure those two in the dungeons? Hmm, wait a moment. Gnarl, are those prisoners from Norbert or wherever scattered around the place, or is there an empty section where I can start storing Harry's presents?"

Asked a direct question from a Mistress, Gnarl was finally able to locate his voice as his brain reactivated. "Both the Eastern and Southern blocks are currently vacant."

"Goody! And how many captives can fit there?"

"Each block can hold seventy-five prisoners, mistress. Or fifteen, if you don't want to pack them in."

Luna cocked her head to the side and smiled brightly. "That should be more than sufficient for the moment." Returning her attention to her teams, she issued them new instructions. "Secure these two in the Eastern block and be back here within fifteen minutes. I'd like to make at least three more trips before calling it a night."

"WHAT!"

"Is something wrong, Gnarl?"

"Three … three … three …" he sputtered.

"Nine? Nine what?"

"Three more trips?" squeaked Gnarl.

"I believe we can do it. We ironed out most of the kinks, I think, so the rest of the abductions should go much smoother."

"But … but … but …."

"Aww. It's sweet of you to worry about us, Gnarl, but there's no need. The war in Wizarding England has been over for years. The sheep have again forgotten that wolves even exist. A few casual greetings, a Stupefying Charm, maybe a body-bind – and at worst a few Obliviates – and Harry has a new sex-slave/decoration for the tower. Easy as pudding." Luna's gaze grew distant and she tapped a finger against her chin. "Well … for three, maybe four, days at the most. After that, someone may manage to drive away the wrackspurts and start putting four and twelve together."

Gnarl was still sputtering when the eight minions on loan to Luna returned from the dungeons. Lifting her hood, Luna tugged on her glamoured hair to make sure that some of it spilled forth from her cowl … just in case. Beckoning to the minions, she once more skipped over to the portal at the end of the room.

"Diagon Alley or thereabouts, please."

xXxXx

Luna groaned as the knock on her door awakened her. She had only gotten to bed a few hours ago. The final abduction last night had taken three times longer than she had estimated. It had actually turned into a spell battle and ended only when Shemp and Happy had managed to sneak up behind the Slytherin being collected. It seemed that the snakes tended towards paranoia. Luna was saddened by how little trust some people could have for their fellow man. She would have to factor that into her calculations before kidnapping the rest of the Slytherins on her mental list.

"Mmrmph?"

"Luna … are you awake?" Harry knocked on the door once again. Usually, he just walked straight into his mistresses' rooms whenever he desired to see them. His day with Hermione, however, had put him in an excellent mood and, as a result, he found himself desiring to be polite. At least for today.

Hearing Harry's voice, Luna forced herself to awaken. Throwing open the door she smiled at the Overlord. "Good morning, Harry! Did you have a pleasant day?"

"Very much so, thank you," he smiled. "Hermione and I were just going down to grab something to eat. She told me that it would be best to have you present for something about 'bad news' and 'weird news'?"

Luna bounced and clapped her hands. "Wonderful! I was so afraid that it would become pillow-talk and I would not be present when you heard it."

"Well, come on then."

Luna bounced out the door and started heading to the stairwell.

"Um … Luna?"

"Yes, Dark Master?"

"Wouldn't you like to put something on first?"

Luna looked down at her bare body. "Is there something wrong? Have I got something on my back?" She began to try to peer over her own shoulder as she started turning around in circles.

Harry shook his head and sighed. "No, Luna. There is nothing wrong. You're lovely as always. Just do me a favor and go grab a robe."

"Oh, pooh."

Once Luna had put on the sheerest robe she could find, she grabbed her wand and joined Harry in the hallway once again. After another shake of his head, they joined Hermione downstairs for breakfast. Once they had all finished their meals, Harry pushed himself back from the table.

"Alright … let's start off with the bad news."

"Well … the bad news can also be good news. It's all a matter of perspective," began Luna.

Hermione nodded. "And it's something better shown before being explained. The end result can go one of two ways. We need your help to perform the final test."

"Should we go to the throne room? We'll need to cast a few spells at each other," explained Luna.

Shrugging, Harry led them to their destination. "Okay … what do you need me to do?"

"Your 'electric lash' spell is a direct attack, right? Not something that affects an area?" At Harry's nod, Hermione continued, "Please cast it at Luna with the least power behind it that you can to begin with. That will let us know which of our theories are correct."

"Okay. Are you ready, Luna?" Harry waited until the blond drew her wand and nodded. Once she was ready for him, Harry lifted his left arm and flicked a minor burst of electrical energy at her.

"_Clypeum_," said Luna with a slight dip of her wand before the bolt could reach her. The energy seemed to strike an invisible shield and bounced off.

Luna and Hermione shared knowing looks.

Before Harry could ask anything, Luna asked, "Can you do that again? This time with as powerful a blast as you can manage?"

"Uhm … wait," interrupted Hermione. "If we continue this and get another deflection, well … maybe we should go somewhere else. There might be some damage."

"No worries, Mione. I've got hundreds of minions with nothing to do and several mistresses that would love nothing more than an excuse to redecorate. Don't worry about it."

Hermione shrugged. "It's your throne room, Harry."

"Ready?" Harry asked Luna once again. At her nod, he fired off another 'lash,' this time holding nothing back. He trusted these two women to know what they were doing.

Once again, an invisible shield was struck. The lightshow proved to be truly impressive and two demon statues were shattered by the deflected blast, but Luna's spell seemed to have no problem protecting her.

Harry whistled, impressed. "You've _got_ to teach me that spell! At that level, my lash has split two-ton boulders in half!"

"I'm afraid you wouldn't find much use for it, Harry." Hermione looked upon him sadly. "Luna's spell was the weakest shield charm in the wizarding world. It's used primarily by children to protect themselves from jinxes. And only the most minor ones, at that."

"What? I don't understand."

"Wizard magic and Overlord magic are fundamentally different and completely incompatible. Yes, they follow the same 'laws' and rules, but the energies used by the magic … well, they're oil and water."

"But I can use both!"

"Nothing prevents that, Harry," Luna explained. "You are simply using two types of magic. A Charms Master can cast hexes. A quidditch player can play soccer. You can use wizard magic and your own."

Harry looked crestfallen. "So the only magic I have worth a damn in the Wizarding World is that of a sixteen-year-old with a little extra combat training."

"Not exactly," reassured Luna. "This is where 'perspective' comes into play. In a way, we lucked out."

"How so?"

"Well, Hermione and I saw that the magics were incompatible but, until we tested it, there were two possible results of the magics interacting. One is what we saw. The second possibility was that the magics would completely ignore each other. In that situation, yes, your electric lash would pass through a Protego like it wasn't there … but the weakest of stunners would do the same to your shield."

"It's really not that bad, Harry," came from Hermione. "Just think about it. Your Overlord magic still works … it just won't get through any wizarding shield. Most of which protect only one side of a small area. At the higher levels, your flame spell would still burn them. Your spells can do environmental damage or do damage by proxy. Your lash could destroy the floor beneath someone, for instance, even if they had a Protego cast."

"And the reverse holds true?"

"Absolutely," nodded Luna. "No wizarding magic should be able to pierce your 'halo' shield. And your shield has the benefit of being an all-encompassing sphere. According to our calculations, you could – while shielded – walk through a wall of Fiendfyre!"

"The same should hold true for the Unforgiveables, Harry. With your Overlord shield up, you should be able to ignore spells against which wizards have no defense!" promised Hermione.

Harry nodded after a bit of thought. This wasn't quite the disaster he had first assumed. There were both advantages and disadvantages to the magical situation. "That's definitely a lot to consider, ladies. Thank you. Now … do I really want to hear the last of the news?"

Hermione dropped her head to her chest and refused to look up. Luna started bouncing around with a smile on her face which seemed to stretch from ear-to-ear.

For the first time in his tenure as Overlord, Harry felt fear. He wasn't sure why, but there was something about the manic blond that made him want to run from his own throne room screaming. He could just feel "little-Luna" preparing to go off powerfully enough to make his head explode and scatter brain tissue throughout the chamber.

Luna jumped right in front of Harry and stared straight into his eyes.

Looking into those eyes, seeing that smile … Harry knew that any healer would have immediately given the girl a one-way ticket to the Janus Thickey ward with an armed escort.

"You are THE GREAT NECROMANCER, Harry Potter!" Luna happily announced.

"Uhrm … what?" _Merlin's hairy arse, not this again!_ "Luna … I've already told you, I'm not –"

"Yes, Harry, you are. The Overlords are probably the most powerful necromancers that ever existed," interrupted Hermione.

"Uhrm … what!"

"We arithmantically dissected your spells then used an Avada Kedavra on several of the minions to make sure," Luna began.

"You've been killing my minions?"

"No, we haven't," assured Hermione. "That Unforgiveable basically separates the soul from a living being … quickly and crudely enough that the body switches off," she added to differentiate it from a Dementor's Kiss.

"It doesn't work on them because they are not living creatures!" explained Luna. "The easiest way to describe them is as the most advanced Inferi ever created!"

"But … but … they're alive! And Inferi are just mindless –" Harry was distracted by a minion racing into the room on the far side of the hall, chasing a rat while swinging its club. In its determination to catch the rat, it ended up smashing full speed into a wall. "—well, _more_ mindless … puppets, I guess I would call them."

"Like robots?" offered Hermione.

"Well … yeah."

Luna rolled her eyes. "Okay, this is the part where she lost me. She said it's a muggle thing. Hopefully, you understand it more than I did."

Lifting her head, Hermione started chewing on her lower lip and pacing back and forth before the Overlord, obviously about to enter full "lecture-mode."

"Robots programmed to obey their master are the most apt comparisons, Harry. An Inferius is not a dead person brought back to life; it is the animation of something which just so happened to once have been a living body … which is then 'programmed' to follow its creator's instructions."

"Okay," nodded Harry. "I'm with you so far."

"Minions _mimic_ life, but they are not alive. Souls are used by their hives in their construction, but they have no souls of their own."

"Wouldn't that make them … I dunno … all the same, then?"

Hermione nodded. "They are all created from the same 'template' related to their color. Bob and Gnibley were essentially the exact same creature when they were 'born.' And to get ahead of you before you object, _yes_, they are completely different now. That's what makes minions so advanced by comparison. Magic has trumped science and actually instilled them with a true 'A.I.' or artificial intelligence. Even though they are not alive, they learn and develop individually following their spawning."

Harry moved over to sit upon his throne. _Well, none of this is bad … just strange. Gather soul orbs … make minions … deal with insane women. It's not like being a necromancer actually changes anything._

"Okay, so by making super-zombies I earned the title of Greatest Necromancer. Aside from making Luna's knickers soaked … I don't see what's the big deal."

Luna looked outraged. Not a big deal!

Hermione merely slapped a hand to her forehead and shrugged in disbelief. "It's not just your minions, Harry. You were brought back from the dead … something which magic clearly states is impossible! Aside from a few minor things like your 'flame' and 'shield' spells, almost everything which you do as an Overlord is necromancy beyond anything ever conceptualized!"

"Uhrr?" Harry grunted while looking questioningly at the brunette.

"Take your Drones as an example. Do you know how long the Imperius Curse lasts?"

"Um … well, I never really looked into it …."

"From an average witch or wizard, it would last one to three hours before needing to be renewed. Controlling the human mind is not easy. I could probably cast one which would last a day or two. Voldemort, Dumbledore, or you … I wouldn't be surprised if it lasted a week. How long does a Drone stay a Drone?"

"I don't think it has a duration. I've got Drones that have been that way for more than seven years."

"That's because you aren't controlling their minds," interjected Luna. "You've turned them into, literally, living zombies! Their own soul was used by your necromancy to power the conversion."

"Your Drones were reprogrammed. The template used instills total obedience to you, the Overlord. Haven't you ever noticed that they all say the same thing once they become a Drone? It's part of the script they were programmed with," Hermione continued the explanation.

Harry suddenly felt uncomfortable. He actually felt goosebumps appear on his arms and the back of his neck. "I've … I've been shagging dead people?"

"More like coma patients," offered Luna, trying to be helpful.

"Harry … calm down! No, you are not a necrophiliac." Rushing forward, Hermione placed her hand over his before he could hyperventilate. "Your Drones are not dead. Not all of the soul is consumed in the process. They remain living beings … an Avada Kedavra would kill them. The tiniest spark is all that seems to be required to make someone or something 'alive.' Remember Crouch Jr.'s Defense class?"

Quelling his panic, Harry asked, "You mean the spiders?"

"Yes, Harry, the spiders. They were living creatures. I'm not proficient in theology so have no idea what percentage of soul constitutes life, but if you'd like … we could summon one of your Hummers to _discuss_ that with you."

Harry was immediately relaxed by the mischievous smile which Hermione had ended with. _Merlin, what would I do without her? At the very least I'd be boiling myself in a bath and scrubbing my skin raw right about now!_

"Having examined the magic used to create Drones, we can modify it. By using what Hermione calls a 'variable template' which copies the subject of the magic but adds in a few things like total obedience, we are certain that you could cast what would be equivalent to a permanent Imperius. Rather than a Drone, you could create a slave whom no one else could recognize as a slave." Luna decided to follow Hermione's lead and further distract the Overlord. "The most amazing part of your necromancy is the existence of true metempsychosis."

Completely lost, Harry looked to Hermione. "Moving a soul from point A to B," she clarified. "Something you do every time you collect a soul and send it to the tower to create a new minion. Something else considered impossible."

"And what's the significance of that?" asked a thoroughly confused Overlord.

Hermione slowly shook her head. Harry was a genius at the practical, but had no understanding of the theoretical. "That's why the dead are dead. There's been no way to return a departed soul to the body. You've opened the door to true resurrection!"

Harry collapsed back on his throne completely dumbfounded. Strangely enough, a name immediately sprang to his mind.

_Tonks!_

***** Sorry about not getting back to the revenge killings yet. Luna and her necromancy kind of took over.**

***** No, that's not going to be the solution to Dumbledore. I have other plans. It was just to show that – as an Overlord – Harry cheats!**

***** Luna's lunacy will continue in the background, but I want to center more on Harry. Rather than cover various stalkings and abductions, it will appear more as auror reports, **_**Prophet**_** articles, new tower decorations, and weird lines like "Luna … why are we having Nyotaimori with Lavender Brown?" I will not go into much detail … until it becomes a pertinent part of what Harry is involved with at the time. (Don't worry … Hermione is certain to come up with a fair schedule.)**


	11. Lessons from the Dead

***** Geez, are disclaimers _really_ needed after the first chapter? If people are too stupid to get the idea by now, they must be lawy—urm … not mine, not for profit, just for fun, please don't sue.**

***** The post 'chandelier' segment is dedicated to Paulthored. Sirius was already in the pipe, but I had a complete brain fart on Dobby being an issue. You were quite right and I give credit where credit is due. Hopefully, the band-aid works. It could probably still use some polish, though.**

**Chapter 11**

**Lessons from the Dead**

_Hermione slowly shook her head. Harry was a genius at the practical, but had no understanding of the theoretical. "That's why the dead are dead. There's been no way to return a departed soul to the body. You've opened the door to true resurrection!"_

_Harry collapsed back on his throne completely dumbfounded. Strangely enough, a name immediately sprang to his mind._

_Tonks!_

xXxXx

Seeing the smile slowly forming upon Harry's face, Hermione's own face fell. Quickly, she slid into the Overlord's lap and held him close. "I'm truly sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to get your hopes up." Pulling his head to her chest, she tried to console him. "I know that you miss him, but I don't think bringing him back would be possible."

"Uhm … what?"

"Since he went through the veil, there's no body to potentially return him to … besides, this is all just theoretical. If the decedent's soul were present, we should be able to come up with something which would work, but once the soul has … passed on, I guess would be the proper term … I don't know if there would be a way to get it back from wherever it goes so that you could perform the transfer."

"Oh! Uh … that's alright, Hermione. I understand. It was a long time ago … I've made my peace with him being gone." _Besides, it's not like I ever tossed one off to Sirius! Once I learned she could change her shape into you, Padma, celebrities – or anyone else I could think of – Tonks definitely became a central figure in numerous fantasies!_ _Twin Hermiones, triplet Patils, a one woman Holyhead Harpies … I mean, really! Not to mention that she was pretty cute in her base state. _Looking over Hermione's shoulder, Harry saw Luna roll her eyes.

Harry patted Hermione on the back. "Thanks for the hug, but I'll be okay. It still sounds like it has potential, though. Why don't you work on that and the modified Imperius Charm?"

"Certainly, Harry. Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Absolutely. And thanks again … for everything."

After a quick kiss, Hermione slid off of the Overlord's lap and left the room to return to her work. Once she was safely out of earshot, Harry turned to the still-smirking Luna. "Yes, Luna?"

"No one knows Harry Potter better than Hermione. I don't think she's _quite_ got a handle yet on 'Overlord Harry,' however."

Harry had to chuckle. "Oh?" he asked as he arched an eyebrow.

"I do think that Sirius would have eventually come to mind … but I don't think he'd be the first person you thought of."

"He wasn't?" Harry's grin grew wider as he tried to adopt an innocent expression. Luna and her bizarre insights were always amusing! "Who, pray tell, was I thinking of then?"

"Amongst those that have died, my first guess would be Bellatrix. If not her, then Tonks."

Harry nodded, but wasn't that impressed, really. There were only two good looking women whose names he even knew that died in the Battle of Hogwarts which gave Luna a fifty-fifty chance. Well, there may have been more deaths after he had died, but he was certain that Luna would have accounted for his lack of post-death knowledge. "It was Tonks, actually, but I'm curious to know your reasoning."

"Oh, pooh. I was certain it would be Bellatrix. I thought you would have enjoyed the idea of having a dangerous Death Eater as a personal sex-toy. She was also completely bonkers. I've read a few studies that claim the more insane the woman, the more wild they are in the bedroom."

"Studies, eh? I wouldn't know, but that's definitely an interesting theory." _Actually, given a sample of two – you and Velvet – I'd say it's pretty safe to move that from 'scientific study' to 'scientific fact'!_ Hopping up off his throne, Harry asked, "Do you have any plans for today? I think it's time for 'Mr. To Be Determined' to make another appearance."

"I still can't believe you used that as a name."

"Hey! It was on the spur of the moment! Do you think I should have made some kind of anagram from 'I am the Overlord Harry Potter'?"

"No, but I'm sure you could have come up with something better."

"Be that as it may … did you have plans?"

"If it's okay with you, there _are_ a few things I'd like to take care of …."

"Fine by me. I've got enough on my plate today that it would better if I didn't have some wanton wench dragging me into dark alleys every other street." Harry waggled his eyebrows at the blond. In return, she stuck her tongue out at him. "Now, now. I'm not saying that I don't like it … I just have several things I want to actually accomplish. If you would, just help me make sure I get those cosmetic glamours you taught me correct before I change into something Detremin would wear."

Once Harry had left to change, Luna went in search of Gnarl. She really should go ahead and let the Minion Master know that her plans for the day were fine by Harry. As high-strung as the minion apparently was, the news should help relax him.

Harry, in the meantime, looked through the clothing Luna had picked out for him at Madam Malkin's. He understood that first impressions were important, but he had always found that holding up the decapitated head of a man's first born son – or something else along those lines – made for excellent first impressions. Clothing was just clothing. True … some looked better than others, but Harry just couldn't really understand the importance that some people placed on it.

Eventually, Harry found a suit he liked. Double checking the label, he found that it was designed by someone he had never heard of, but the name _did_ sound Italian … or perhaps Greek. He vaguely remembered that it was also one of the suits where Madam Malkin's eyes had lit up when Luna had selected it. Probably a good choice, he reasoned.

Grabbing a cloak which he had no idea was completely inappropriate to the rest of his attire, Harry left his quarters and descended the stairwell towards his throne room and the gate therein. Thinking back, he found himself chuckling at the idea of Luna's scientific studies. _Bellatrix might not be a bad idea. She __**was**__ kind of sexy … in a twisted and overly-gothic way. And if Luna's theory was correct, we'd probably end up swinging from the …_

_Chandeliers._

Harry Potter froze in midstep. There was a strange wrenching sensation within his chest which he knew no Blue could help him with. Numbly, he continued down to his throne room and then took another staircase further down into the bowels of his tower.

The Overlord eventually found himself within the Spawning Pit. Minions of all sorts rushed about and – upon seeing him – rushed up to their master, hopeful that he had some service which they could perform for him. As they neared him, however, even the densest of Browns knew that they should not accost him. Cowering before the aura which seemed to surround him, they parted before him and allowed their master to continue undisturbed.

Bypassing the Tower Heart which floated in the center of the expansive chamber, the Overlord walked towards an alcove which used to contain an exit leading outside the tower. It was there that Gnarl had first trained him in the directing of his minions. Or, at least, one which _used_ to lead there. Every exit was also an entrance. An entrance from outside leading directly to the source of his power was an entrance which the Overlord had no desire to have. The opening had been sealed years ago upon his orders.

The mausoleum which would stand eternal guard in the alcove was almost completed. To one side, there was a large block of marble with a form partially revealed amidst the discarded chisels and stone chips scattered about it. A raised fist, half of an unusually shaped skull, and portions of a floppy ear were the only portions uncovered from the heart of the stone so far. A painting was set to the side … the model the sculptor was using to guide his work.

The painting was Luna's work, of course: A painting of an enraged house elf, the anger on his face battling with grief for supremacy, throwing waves of pure magic at a cowering, bearded wizard. In the corner, in small letters, was written a title. The painting was simply called _Friend's Fury._

Satisfied with the progress being made, Harry headed toward another passage off of the massive chamber. Upon reaching a small room at the end of the passage, Harry could not prevent a shiver from coursing through his body.

_Something about that stone … coffin – THERE, I said it! – just gives me the willies! At least they've fixed the lid. No more cracks or holes. Let the **next** Overlord worry about running out of air!_

Harry rested one hand on the lid of his coffin. "Hello, Dobby. I just checked on your mausoleum … it's coming along nicely. We should have you in there within a couple more weeks at most. I hope you like it. It's not nearly enough to repay you for everything that you did for me, but …." Harry's statement trailed off; he had no idea what to say to the little house elf who had repeatedly shown himself to be Harry's truest friend. "Well … I just hope you like it.

"You taught me a lot, Dobby. Some of the lessons would make you happy. Some of the others would break your heart. I hate to say it, but I'm happy that you're not alive to know of those. You're still doing it, too! Teaching me, I mean."

Harry sent a tendril of thought out, seeking the nearest of his sergeants. Finding a young Red, he explored deeper to identify the creature. _Smorez?_

_Mastah! Yes, mastah! How mayz Smorez serve?_

Harry grinned at the eagerness of the little creature. _Go to the kitchens and fetch me a pitcher of ale. Bring it and a mug to me._ As the creature bounded off, barreling straight through any minion unfortunate enough to stand between the imp and its goal, Harry moved to one side of the chamber and sat down on the floor, resting his back against the wall.

"You taught me what true friendship was. Maybe that was a mistake, though. You _did_ set the bar rather high. Bints Above and Hells Below, even _Hermione_ couldn't live up to your standard! Well … at least until recently. And she kind of had to lose her mind to do it. Luna lived up to your standard, but … Luna is Luna and we'll just leave it at that.

"You also taught me the value of using one's allies and resources to accomplish one's goals. Unintentionally, I'm sure. I couldn't help but learn that after reviewing that disaster of a war over and over in my head. You could 'pop' anywhere, even through wards … had enough magic to toss an inner-circle Death Eater around like a rag-doll …. Hermione and I probably could have been sitting under a Fidelious sipping cold butterbeers while you fetched Horcruxes rather than sit in that stupid tent. Damn, I was such an idiot!" Harry couldn't keep a grin from his face as he mentally pictured Dobby and Winky holding the ends of a huge trawler's net, dragging a struggling Nagini into the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. "_Would the Great Wizard Harry Potter, sir, like some new boots? Maybe a belt or six?"_

Smorez came bounding into the chamber with his master's ale. Harry thanked and dismissed the Red with a nod before pouring himself a drink.

"But I think this last lesson may have been the most important, old friend. Luna and Hermione seem to think that I don't need Dumbledore's bloody Hallows to become the Master of Death. According to them … I already am!" Harry paused to chuckle at this point. As much as he hated the ancient wizard, he had to admit that Albus might be the penultimate schemer. Were the Hallows 'Backup Plan #6', Harry wondered idly, or did the bastard prefer to use letters? Either way, he would never have suspected it if Luna's knowledge of the strange and esoteric had not been as great as it was.

_And it just goes to prove to you how idiotic the Wizarding World can be._ Shaking his head, Harry took a sip of the ale and smiled. The Red had gotten him the good stuff … Bron's secret stash! _"Oh, no! Bringing back the dead is completely impossible! No magic can do something like that! It can never be done and any thought of it is pure foolishness! Unless, of course, you have these items from a children's bed-time story …."_

_I wonder … would Hermione acknowledge the stupidity of the entire concept or would she try to defend it as being an exception which proved a rule?_

Harry paused to take a long pull from the mug. "Sorry, Dobby. My thoughts kind of drifted there, for a bit. Getting back to your last lesson to me, they told me that I may be able to bring back the dead. I didn't immediately think of my parents, Sirius, or even you. I never knew my parents. Once I _remembered_ them, I remembered only a few pictures and tales from people who knew them. Why did I whine about them as much as I did? They were and are strangers to me … albeit ones I can respect. They gave their lives so that their child might live. Obviously, I very much appreciate that! All that moaning and groaning that I did, though? I now find it difficult to believe I was ever like that. 'Oh, poor ickle Harry! No other has ever suffered as much as he has … how _tragic_ his life is!' Sheesh … did I think I was the first orphan in existence or something? As for all the rest of it, well … that can all be laid at the feet of one man and is not due to some tragic destiny.

"Pretty much the same could be said about Sirius." Finishing off his current mug, Harry carefully poured himself a fresh one. "I never got the chance to know him that well. He was more a symbol of hope than anything else, I believe. A chance to escape the life Dumbledore made for me. But looking back with the eyes of an adult … the man was an ass! Your godson's parents have just died … your best friends who gave you the responsibility to ensure the safety of their only child. Years later, feel free to wail about how important he is to you but, in the meantime, leave him in the arms of a hairy half-giant with the I.Q. of a Nimbus 500 so you can walk into a simplistic trap! When you finally escape Azkaban, continue following the orders of the puppet master who won't bother to use the influence of any _one_ of his many titles to get you a fair trial. And don't forget to let that same man use your house for his secret headquarters and continue to make all the decisions concerning that godson who's _so _important to you."

Harry chuckled into his ale. "By the sound of it, I should be feeling quite bitter. I'm actually rather amused, though. I can't imagine, now, how I let myself get caught up in all that garbage. All those years moping about and bemoaning my 'tragic fate' when I should have been trying to figure out how to get out from under the Old Man's thumb. Or at least getting myself shagged rotten!

"Which leads me up to you …. My first thought was of my own pleasure instead of bringing back my loyal friend. That just goes to show that I'm a different person now. A person that you wouldn't recognize. You probably wouldn't even like me now, but I can respect that. Young Harry Potter wouldn't like me now, either. I accept that and thank you for driving that lesson home. I'm not the boy you befriended. I'll miss you, Dobby, and I thank you for everything you did." Standing up, Harry finished off the last of the ale in his mug.

"It's time for me to get on with my new life. Don't worry, though. I'll make sure that the inscription on your tomb reads that you were _Harry Potter's_ truest friend. There will be no mention of the Overlord anywhere on your tomb. Rest in peace, Dobby. Perhaps a piece of Harry Potter, _the child_, passed on to the next adventure when I died. If that's the case, I hope the two of you find each other."

For a moment, the Overlord placed his palm on the coffin currently housing the body of the house elf. With a final nod of respect, he turned away and departed the chamber.

xXxXx

"Ah, Mr. Detremin! A pleasure, sir! Please … have a seat! You'll be happy to know that five days ago you were placed on record as the owner of that property you had inquired about. I also have a list here of several other properties that you may be interested in as that second purchase you mentioned."

Sitting down in the proffered seat, the Overlord carefully maintained a neutral expression. Inwardly, he smiled. The goblin was almost vibrating in his seat and Harry did not fail to notice that the plaque on his desk now read "Assistant Manager, New Accounts." _That was a huge promotion! I guess they liked the Duranium._

"Many thanks, Manager Scarblade. I realize that a goblin of your station has very little time to waste upon a minor, new account holder such as myself, so I'll try to be as succinct as possible. I realize that your time is golden."

"Now, now, Mr. Detremin … don't believe every rumour you hear concerning us. We here at Gringottts value _each_ and every one of our customers as the individual treasure that they are. Please … feel free to take as much time as makes you comfortable."

_Morganna's Left Tit, he was laying it on thick! They must really, __**really**__ like the Duranium!_ "You honor me with your indulgence, sir. Still, allow me to get past business behind us so we can venture forward to new territory which may hold untapped profit for us both." Harry had to laugh at himself. _Who am I to accuse others of 'laying it on thick'? I've gotta admit, though … it's kind of fun!_

Harry opened up the bag he had brought with him. Luna had charmed it with Hermione's extendable-uninterruptible-wachevermacallit charm so it held much more than it would appear. "I believe I had offered five more bars as an additional bonus for early completion of the purchase?"

"Yes, Mr. Detremin, I believe –" Scarblade's words drifted to a halt as Harry placed six bars of Duranium upon his desk.

"There you go, Manager Scarblade. _Five_ bars of Duranium, just as promised. I hope that these _five_ bars serve the Goblin Nation well and show my true desire to be a fair partner to those I do business with."

Scarblade stared at the human. The goblins had yet to be even able to assign a value to this unknown metal! The Chief Executive Officer and Master General of the Goblin Nations had placed an Emergency Interim Order in the meantime: Give the human whatever he wants!

Harry idly wondered as to the odds of a human actually seeing a goblin soil himself. Hiding his smile, he started piling bars of gold on Scarblade's desk. "I apologize for not returning sooner and making the deposits I had planned. I hope that this is not improper … giving the gold to you, I mean. Should I take this out to the tellers?"

Scarblade gingerly placed the sixth bar of the literally priceless metal into a desk drawer with as much nonchalance as he could muster. "Please don't concern yourself, Mr. Detremin. You are a customer of Gringottts … Gringottts is here to serve _you_."

Once there were no more bars of gold forthcoming, the goblin picked a bell from a small rack at the side of his desk and quickly rang it. Several goblins immediately entered the office and started carting the bars of gold off. Scarblade wrote out a quick receipt, stamped it, and tried to hand it to the Goblin Nation's new favoured customer, but was waved off.

"That won't be necessary. I know how much I brought with me and I have complete faith in your honour as a goblin and Gringottts employee. I have no doubts but that the deposit will be accurately reflected in my monthly statement."

"Thank you, Mr. Detremin. And please be aware that we will do our utmost to live up to the faith you have in us. On that topic, sir, I'm sure that you understand that we at Gringotts do our best to honour the requests of _all_ our valued customers …."

Seeing the nervousness in Scarblade's eyes, Harry was pretty certain that he knew what was coming. Having had his amusement for the day, he decided to throw the goblin a bone. "I both understand and appreciate that, good sir, and would be happy to assist you in such endeavours if I should be given the opportunity to do so."

Scarblade sighed in relief. "It would seem that another valued customer of ours has asked for information regarding you, your family, and your status in Germany. Obviously, we would like to provide this customer with the most accurate information possible –"

"And you believe that the most _accurate_ information would be gotten directly from the source, so to speak?"

"Precisely, sir. I appreciate your understanding and hope that you would assist me in that regards."

_Ah, Draco. Still an idiot, but you're at least trying not to be. Good! This will make it more entertaining._ "I respect your thoroughness and desire for the truth, Manager Scarblade, and will be more than happy to assist you."

Looking much more relaxed, Scarblade pulled out a fresh page of parchment, chose a quill, and licked the nib before asking, "And what thoroughly researched truth should be given to this other customer, exactly?"

Smiling, Harry told the goblin of the long history of the Detremin family … which he made up on the spot. The Detremins, it turned out, were a long line of purebloods but neither an Old nor Noble House. Two generations back, they had bought their way into the lesser nobility. Disliked by the "true" nobility, they were grudgingly accepted due to their recent staggering wealth. Their business acumen was unquestioned and almost every venture they entered made incredible returns.

"Unfortunately, Manager Scarblade, I seem to have misplaced all the documents verifying this during my move to Britain. If Gringotts could replace said documents, it would be much appreciated and I understand if exorbitant fees are withdrawn from my account to cover such an unusual request."

"While true that such matters are usually beyond our purview, I'm sure that we can facilitate the replacement of the documents in question."

Harry nodded his appreciation and was about to bring this meeting to an end but was suddenly struck by what Gnarl referred to as one of his "incredibly idiotic ideas." "Manager Scarblade … hypothetically speaking, if I had a foe which I desired to financially crush beneath my heel … might I be able to commission the financial knowledge of the goblins of Gringotts to aid me? Not to aid me in the battle itself, but in setting up the battlefield."

Scarblade sat back in his overstuffed chair and his expression grew serious. Their earlier verbal dance had been a common one in the private offices of Gringotts … but only with customers above a minimum net worth, of course. Such sparring was an endless source of amusement for the goblins, but it seemed that Mr. Detremin desired to change the game entirely. Economic warfare, while close to every goblin's heart, was taken _very_ seriously.

Reaching into his bottom desk drawer, the goblin withdrew an octagonal stone slab roughly the width of his palm. Gently, Scarblade set it on the edge of the desk nearest the wizard. "I would recommend that, if you wish to continue this conversation, that we use this Privacy Stone, Mr. Detremin. It is activated by a drop of blood from each of the parties involved. The ward created is so strong that – not only can we not be overheard – neither of us will be able to divulge what was discussed before the stone is destroyed at the end of our talk. Even Legilimency and veritaserum would be unable to pull that information from our minds."

Harry nodded, impressed at the magics which must be involved.

"Of course," smiled the goblin, "since each stone may only be used once, a charge of 750 Galleons will be posted against your account."

The Overlord chuckled. He was growing to like the goblins. After Harry agreed to the charge, both goblin and wizard pricked a finger and squeezed a drop of blood onto the rune etched into the center of the slab. Once that was done, Scarblade used one long nail to stir the two drops together. The rune glowed for a moment and then returned to normal.

"Now … what kind of aid would you be seeking, sir?"

The immediate switch in tone and demeanor of the goblin surprised Harry, but he decided to take it in stride and reply in kind. "I would like a perfectly legitimate business proposal and/or business set up for the sole purpose of losing the money of the people who invest in it. If my own money must be invested as well, so be it. I am prepared to invest a great deal of money for the return of massive losses for my fellow investors. I am not a businessman. I would never be able to pull this off by myself, because the business must appear to be a golden opportunity for those I ask to invest … and all of them would likely know more of wizarding business than I do."

Scarblade raised an eyebrow. "An intriguing notion. Such has been done in the past, but I must admit that your willingness to allow your own funds to be lost as well allows for some interesting possibilities. The only problem is that Gringotts will not involve itself in financial fraud."

The Overlord smiled. "And I am not asking you to do so. The business will be mine, the presentation will be mine, and hopefully you can arrange it so that all liability is mine. You would simply be providing me with the knowledge of how to do so and handle normal deposits and withdrawals … at nominal fees, of course. If the investment could look so appealing that wizards buy in _despite_ their goblin financial advisors going on record against it, so much the better."

Scarblade's chuckle threatened to turn into a laugh. A wizard being buggered financially was always amusing. But for the goblins to end up shining like freshly-minted Galleons at the same time? "I … believe we might be able to come to some sort of arrangement, Mr. Detremin. I am afraid that you will have to give me permission to break the privacy bond after our meeting, however. This will have to be authorized by someone above my pay grade and several goblins will probably have to be involved to create something of the caliber you will require … _if_ goblin involvement is approved."

"Do I get my 750 Galleons back," grinned Harry.

"No," chuckled the goblin.

Their business completed, Scarblade shattered the stone and had Harry partake in a quick ritual which would free him to discuss Harry's request with others. After his client had left, the goblin considered how best to proceed. Considering the currently assessed value of the client, it would be best to make a presentation directly to the CEOMG when Scarblade presented the _five_ bars of metal. It would also be a good idea to have some possibilities available to discuss in advance; fortunately, Scarblade indulged in a hobby which might aid him in such preparations. He enjoyed following and studying the muggle financial trades. Muggles were very imaginative when it came to defrauding each other.

Selecting a bell off his rack, Scarblade rang it and waited for a young intern to respond. "Go to the Documents Chamber and look in the muggle index. Get me everything we have on Charles Ponzi and William F. Miller."

xXxXx

"Hurry up! Hurry up!"

"No." Dropping the pocket watch to the ground, Harry crushed it under his heel. "But maybe it wasn't talking to me? Perhaps it knew that you were late? Or _soon_ to be late, anyway?" Looking down at the figure restrained to the bed, Harry chuckled. "Either that, or your own timepiece hates you enough to encourage me to take you out of the picture as quickly as possible."

Still groggy, Dedalus Diggle slurred as his body struggled to regain consciousness and his brain coherence. "Err … wha'?"

"Sorry about that Stupefy, earlier. I would assume that the only thing worse than waking up stunned would be waking up dead."

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, Dedalus tried to move but found that he could not. "Who are you?" he finally managed.

"A person saddened by the fact that he is about to take a life as important and significant as yours." The armored figure strolled over to the bedside table and lifted up the purple top hat sitting there. Holding it up over his helmet, he looked into a mirror for a moment before putting it back down. After a moment, he let out a cold laugh which sent chills up Diggle's spine. "No … just kidding about that, sorry. I'm not saddened and you're neither important nor significant. Sad, really."

"Who are you?"

"Someone that barely knows you. I know that you have sweaty palms, making for a slimey handshake. I also know that you work for Dumbledore. According to Hestia, you helped relocate my relatives to a temporary safehouse. That last two are definite marks against you. You also were one of the people to escort me to Grimmauld Place."

"Ha—Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Shh!" admonished the Overlord. "Don't tell anyone!" After chuckling, Harry glanced over to Bob. _The ropes tying him to the bed are secure?_

The Brown turned to his Master with a wide grin and held two claws up in an "O" shape.

"Even though taking your life will not sadden me, I admit to feeling sorry for you. That's why I'm breaking a very important rule today. Instead of killing you while you were asleep, I stunned you and then had you secured so we could have this brief chat. Don't worry, I shant rant about my Master Plan. I just thought you should know that – in death – you will be much more important than you were in life. You'll be able to die knowing that there was some sort of meaning to your existence."

"But … but …." Dedalus struggled to form the question, but slumped in resignation as the answer came to him. Why? Because the head of the Order of the Phoenix killed him. Understandably, Harry Potter was a tad upset. Unfortunately, it looked that Icara Diggle's only son would be caught in the crossfire of a wizard war. "Please, Mr. Potter … I wasn't even there!"

"I know, Mr. Diggle. Your only crime was that you blindly followed the self-designated Leader of the Light. Unfortunately, that's more than enough for me. I'll give you a few moments to make your peace before turning you into a message … and a distraction."

"A distraction?"

Harry shook his head. "You're going to make me rant, aren't you?" Harry chuckled. "You, Hagrid, Hestia … I'm taking out Dumbledore's pawns. If I start with the first incarnation of the Order, perhaps they will think my problem is with them. Those that I'm more interested in, particular members of the second group, won't go to ground … instead they'll be in the open looking for the killer."

More awake now, Dedalus frowned. There was something wrong with that. Then it came to him. "But Hestia wasn't part of the Order back then!"

"What? But I remember seeing her in an old picture. She'd put on a lot of weight since then, but –"

"Dorcas Meadowes. It had to be. They did look a bit alike." Dedalus shook his head. _Why am I talking to him? He's going to kill me! But maybe if I can keep him talking …._

Re-examining his restored memories, Harry suddenly recalled a vague memory of a dark-haired, nondescript woman pointed out by Moody as having been killed by Voldemort himself. "Bloody hell! I think you're right! I hate it when a plan doesn't come together!"

"So there's really no point in killing me then, is there?" There was a definite undercurrent of hope in the whine.

"Heh. No. Sorry. Nice try, though. But I have no reason to continue that plan, now. I've got to go after the ones I really want, and I have to hit them fast before they scatter like roaches. You have earned a small mercy, however. _Stupefy!_"

Lowering his rod, Harry nodded to a Green. The Green smiled and proceeded to use the blades strapped to the back of its hand to cut away the unconscious man's nightshirt. Once the sunken, pale chest was exposed, the Green began to slowly slice and peel away the man's skin. There was a sickening tearing sound as the skin was removed. Knowing that there would be little time left for the human, the Green quickly slashed away thin layers of fat, tendons, and muscle.

As the ribcage came into view, the Overlord addressed his minions. "Quickly now … everyone reach in and make a wish."

Ignoring the snapping and squelching sounds from behind him, Harry picked up a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ Dedalus had left on the table to see if there might be anything to help him as he revised his plans. _I wonder what's in the sports section?_

xXxXx

"I've always found that a fine wine goes well with deep thoughts."

As the blond man sat down in the chair next to her at the bar, the redhead looked up from the letter she had been reading for the tenth time. "Look … I'm not in the mood. If you're wanting an autograph or photo, owl my agent."

The young man raised his eyebrows. "Beg pardon? Are you some sort of celebrity, then?"

The redhead now turned her attention to the man, amazement plain on her face. "Don't you know who I am?"

"Um … no. I've always believed that individuals meet for the first time and _then_ introduce themselves."

"I'm Ginevra Weasley! A chaser with the Holyhead Harpies! Hero of Hogwarts!"

"Oh. Okay." The man extended his hand. "Tobey Detremin. Not a 'chaser.' Not a 'hero.' Not a Chaser of Heroes, either. But willing to make an exception if the hero in question is an attractive woman who seems interesting enough to pursue."

Ginny looked at the man, confusion evident on her face. Slightly angered, she asked, "And I suppose I'm one of those exceptions?"

"I wouldn't know. We've only just met. It's not looking like it, though." With a wave, the blond man attracted the attention of the bartender and refreshed his drink. Getting up, he walked away from the bar to sit at a table near the back without another glance at the now speechless redhead.

Ginny Weasley tried to return her attention to the letter in her hand. She had blown off the victory party after the game and hit the closest bar to plan out a response. Seamus, the little twerp, was trying to grow a spine!

Seamus wanted her. That was beyond question. They had started dating in Ginny's seventh year and she had found him boring, yet dependable. Even after she had become a Harpie, he proved to always be there for her at the drop of a hat. He ignored all the one-night-stands and told her that he would be there for her whenever she decided to settle down. Yes, he was always talking about the family farm in Ireland, but it wasn't like the Burrow. It was now his and his alone … it wouldn't be like sharing the family homestead with her parents.

As much as Ginny loved her father, that's not what she wanted right now. And that was the kind of man Seamus Finnegan had become. He'd be a loyal, obedient husband and a good father, true. But that wasn't part of her plans for years, yet.

And now the prat was tired of waiting! He was thinking of 'moving on' with his life! And to add insult to injury the bastard asked for her understanding and wanted to remain friends!

_Hell No!_

Whether he realized it or not, Finnegan was hers, damnit! She didn't want what he had to offer now, but she knew that she would one day. He damn well _would_ wait for her or she'd have his jewels removed, chopped up, and fed to his own cows!

_And _that_ bastard! Who the hell does he think he is? No idea who I am? Bollocks! What kind of game is he playing? _For the fifth time, Ginny glanced over to where the blond man sat with his drink. _Every wizard in England has probably rubbed one out to a picture of me in a magazine! I'm supposed to believe that he has no idea who I am?_

Making up her mind, Ginny crumpled up the letter and shoved it into a pocket of her robes. Stomping over to the table belonging to the man who had yet to glance at her once since departing the bar, she dropped herself into the seat across from him. "How in Merlin's name could you _not_ know who I am?"

Detremin looked at the redhead with a bemused expression. "As much as I'd hate to be the one to bruise your obviously fragile ego, I'm from New Zealand. If you have some sort of local notoriety in this town, I apologize that the word has not spread to other sections of the world."

Ginny found herself infuriated by the man's indifference. "I'm Ginevra Weasley! Chaser for the Holyhead Harpies! One of the most famous quidditch teams in Europe!"

"Oh. That explains that, then. I'm not from Europe. And I'm not a sports fan."

"I'm also one of the Heroes of Hogwarts! We defeated the Dark Lord!"

"Hogwarts I've heard of … a school of magic, one of several big ones in Europe, no? As for Dark Lords, I've heard of one called Grindelwald. You seem to be a bit young to have faced him. We don't seem to grow them where I'm from."

"If you don't know _anything_ about England, what in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

Thinking fast, Harry smiled at his own idea. "Actually, I'm here on business. I manage a band."

"What band?"

"You probably haven't heard of them. They're only the most famous band in New Zealand and Australia. They're called Dingoes Ate My Baby. I'm here to set up a world tour of them and a band called Weird Sisters."

"Weird Sisters! I love that band!"

"Glad to hear that. I'll be finalizing the deal with them tomorrow."

Ginny watched the infuriating man take another sip of his drink. "If you didn't know who I was … why did you come over to the bar?"

The fake New Zealander laughed. "I guess apologies are in order, then, Ms. Weasley. If you were unaware that you were an attractive woman sitting alone at a bar, I'm sorry that I'm the one who broke the news to you. That … and I wanted a refill on my drink."

"You … you think I'm attractive?"

Detremin looked at the girl, obviously undressing her with his eyes. Finally, he nodded. "Yes. I'd say so. Perhaps not as attractive as _you_ might think, but definitely worth a greeting and an offer of wine. And judging from the expression you had on your face, I would judge that you were greatly upset at some bloke."

"And what would that have to do with anything?"

The blond man's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "You're kidding, right?"

"Umm … no."

"Well, each man has their own ranking … but I'd say that 'Hate Sex' has to be either ranked at number two or number three on the scale. That and straight-forward 'Jungle Sex' are constantly jockeying for position."

Ginny couldn't help but smirk. "And what's number one?"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. What would Ginny say if Tobey Detremin had told her 'Hermione Sex'? "Ancient male secret, I'm afraid. It can only be weaseled out of us after the fifth mind-blowing orgasm. Care to take a shot? I promise at least a two-for-one exchange."

Ginny pictured Seamus' face for a moment. This might be just what she needed to take the edge off before planning her response. "Your place or mine?"

Harry dropped a few Galleons onto the table. "Mine, I think."


	12. Better to Die in Battle

***** (The normal silly disclaimer has been deleted to save the reader from nauseousness. It was so bad that even the unpaid fanfiction author utilizing characters owned by the Rowling Empire did not want to have anything to do with it.)**

**Chapter 12**

"**Better to Die in Battle, in Full Glory …."**

"No, no. She's a Hufflepuff! She goes into the cell at the end."

"Okayz!" burbled Shemp. He and three other minions carried the limp figure to the far end of the cell block. "Movez! Movez!" yelled the minion as he reached the cell door. "New slave for the Overlord!" he proclaimed with joy. The current occupant of the cell huddled in the corner as Sneezy unlocked the door allowing the minions to throw in their latest captive.

Luna shook her head. The minions simply could not understand that the prisoners couldn't hear a word they said. She had cast several silence charms throughout the block because the constant questions, demands, pleas, and general caterwauling kept distracting her as she was updating her list. But at least the minions were enjoying themselves.

"I think it's time for another Gryffindor," muttered Luna. Perusing her parchment, she looked for a likely candidate.

A bloodcurdling scream caught the blond Ravenclaw completely by surprise. Raising an eyebrow, she cocked her head slightly to the side. "Curious." Deciding to locate the source of whatever had shocked her so badly, Luna put away the list of names and headed to where she estimated the echoing sound may have originated from, given the layout of the dungeons.

Luna eventually came across a woman she had been earlier introduced to but had yet to speak with for any length of time. The ebony-haired woman (black did not seem to do the color justice, in Luna's eyes) stood before a nude man strapped to a most intriguing device. A simple wooden frame, it had a winch attached which would apparently raise a rope to a desired height. The rope in question seemed to be secured to the gentleman's wrists which were currently tied behind him. From the looks of it, the man – who was currently leaning forward and standing on his toes in an effort to alleviate the pressure – had his arms lifted up almost high enough behind him to where Luna was certain that one more turn of the winch would dislocate the man's shoulders.

The woman, a fellow Mistress who went by the name Velvet, was currently remoistening a leather strap in a bucket. Luna noted that the strap seemed to have a number of tiny tacks protruding from the leather. The smell of brine seemed to suggest that the bucket was filled with saltwater. The tiny red dots forming a stripe on the man's abdomen served to show that the strap had been used at least once.

"I've never actually seen a Pendulum in use, Mistress Velvet."

"Oh? It has a name where you're from? Around here, everyone just calls it 'one of Velvet's little toys.'" Removing the strap from the bucket, Velvet snapped her wrist to shake off the excess water. She smiled sweetly at the captive as the motion made him flinch.

Luna hopped up onto a nearby table and started to swing her legs back and forth. "Would it be alright with you if I watched for a bit?"

The question made Velvet pause for a moment. This Luna was a newcomer and was currently taking up a great deal of her master's attention. Velvet did, however, take great pride in her skills. Perhaps showing this child a thing or two would also inform the girl that she was not someone that the newest mistress would want as an enemy. In the end, the innocent look of eagerness on the child's face swung Velvet's decision in Luna's favor. "Certainly, my dear. Just warn me if you decide to get a look from a different angle. Unless you don't mind a bit of splatter on your robes."

As Velvet continued the torture, she found herself actually having a pleasant conversation with the young mistress. The girl was bright and obviously had some basic knowledge of Velvet's art. Enough to immediately appreciate the skill with which Velvet destroyed the prisoner before her, at least. Their talk continued for half an hour, at which point the captive managed to dislocate his own shoulders after a strike across his thighs managed to drive tacks into his genitals as well. His shriek managed to exceed the first one which had originally gotten Luna's attention.

"Now, I'll let the Blues take care of him. By the time I've reached a similar stage on another prisoner, this one will be ready for the next stage of his education."

Luna shook her head in amazement. "I like to think that I have a passing familiarity with the use of pain for pleasurable purposes, but I am in awe of your knowledge of its use for the more traditional purpose."

Velvet smiled at the young girl. "I am skilled in its use for pleasure as well. Our master doesn't really appreciate that aspect, unfortunately. Perhaps one day the two of us may find time for a … discussion on that other use."

"I'd like that very much. Even if the Overlord isn't interested in experiencing it himself, perhaps he would enjoy a live demonstration of it being used for pleasure?" After a quick smile at the older woman, Luna turned the conversation to her primary interest. "Do you think that you might be able to teach me – or at least aid me – in pain's use to break a person? I've been collecting presents for him, and he might not wish to turn them into Drones." Seeing the steely glint which suddenly appeared in Velvet's eye, Luna rushed to minimize her fellow mistress' concerns. "They were school mates of his in his youth. And he mentioned the possibility of 'refreshing' the current stable of cleaning servants."

Velvet relaxed a bit. A new cleaning staff would be no more than a momentary distraction. Still, for a time, they _would_ prove a distraction, nevertheless. Pursing her lips, Velvet considered the blond girl's request.

The name of Slytherin was unknown on this world. In Harry's world, however, the woman known as Velvet would have been considered a _true_ daughter of his house – unlike the crop of disappointments Hogwarts had been putting out for the past several decades. Quickly weighing the advantages and disadvantages in her head, Velvet realized that Luna was here to stay. Even if only for the time being, the ethereal blond held their master's favor. Adopting the role of friendly mentor and being a co-provider of Luna's gifts would probably only improve Velvet's own standing with the Dark One.

Velvet flashed the blond a brilliant smile. "I would be honored to help you, Luna. You strike me as a quick study. With my help, I'm sure that we can have your presents ready for our master in no time."

xXxXx

At that very moment, the master in question was in a muggle hotel room, tightly gripping the sweat-slicked hips of a redhead on all fours on the bed before him.

"No, Ginny. Rotate your hips, yes, but just a tad slower … that's it, very good." There was a rhythmic slapping sound as Harry continued to thrust his own hips forward, driving him deeply into the girl sharing his bed. Harry began to grunt as the tempo of flesh meeting flesh increased. "That's it! Keep it up! Keep … yesssss." With a hiss followed by a final grunt, Harry emptied himself once again into the Holyhead Harpies' Chaser, one of the Heroes of Hogwarts. Collapsing upon her back, he took a moment to catch his breath. Once he had recovered, he raised his hands to lightly massage two tight breasts as he kissed her on the neck. "Much better, that time. I must admit, the first four were rather disappointing. I had expected better from you. You actually managed to temporarily drop 'Hate Sex' to something between 8 and 10 on the list." Lifting himself from her back, he playfully slapped her hard on her bum. "But I did make a promise. I don't know if I lived up to the two-for-one, but – aside from not really caring – I don't think that should affect our deal. For your information, I personally rank 'Hermione Sex' as number one on the list."

Harry took in a few deep breaths but did not see the point in unsheathing himself from his old 'friend' just quite yet. He was quite comfortable where he was. "I've got to admit … after the fourth time, you may have made a new _temporary_ number one, though. It's hard to believe that, over eight years, I'd never before considered casting a _Dominor_ while engaged in sex. I'll probably never try it again, though. Bloody hell! You almost tore off my block and tackle! But at least you showed some life, finally."

Reaching out, Harry stroked Ginny's damp hair. Glancing at the large mirror mounted on the hotel room's dresser, his lips shaped themselves into a smirk as he saw her blank, vacant expression staring back at him. "Merlin, you as a fan-girl were so embarrassing. I think I'll like you much better this way." Leaning back, Harry reached out for the pen and pad of paper on the stand by the bed. He found that he couldn't quite reach it while remaining inside his new Drone, however. Taking a hold of her thighs, he said, "Now do be a dear and scoot back a little, please."

Ginny obediently shuffled backward in tandem with her master allowing him to remain inside her inner recesses. Now that he was within arms reach, Harry snagged the paper and pen from the night table and placed the pad between Ginny's shoulder blades. Uncapping the pen, Harry began, "So … to continue our little conversation … where exactly is the house in relation to the main pens?"

xXxXx

Collin Cuffe was a bitter man. Much more than that … he was a bitter squib. Neither magical nor muggle, he straddled both worlds but could never truly belong to either one. His brother, Barnabas, was the Editor-in-Chief of _The Daily Prophet_. Collin's brother was an idiot, however. Barnabas had managed to turn the paper into little more than a Ministry propaganda sheet. The British magicals, conditioned to sop up their daily pablum and be thankful for it, didn't realize that they were the laughingstock of the rest of the magical world.

Truthfully, Collin didn't see anything wrong with using a paper to parrot the people in power … if you were either being paid well to do it, or if the people in power had the brains God gave a tsetse fly! Neither was the case in this instance.

Collin Cuffe worked for the Met, the Metropolitan Police Service. As a Senior Administrator, he had a small office at 10 Broadway even though he wasn't truly an officer himself. Every once in a while, something interesting would cross his desk as it made the circuit. If it were minor, he'd perform his civic duty so that the Ministry could send out a team of Obliviators.

Every once in a while, something special would find its way onto his desk. And this file concerned one of those _special_ situations.

A strange old codger by the name of Diggle had been found murdered in his tiny flat in Kent. An anonymous tip had come in through a 999 call. Because of the state the corpse had been found in, the case was being investigated as one with "obviously occult connections."

Collin had laughed at that.

He hadn't made the connection himself, until he had seen the photos of the crime scene. Diggle had been one of Dumbledore's lackeys. That mental connection had been made when he saw that Diggle's bloody ribs had been used to spell out the name "Albus" on the floor.

Yes, this would go to Rita Skeeter first!

Merlin, how he hated that bigoted bint! Collin was from a pureblood line that could be traced back three times further than the inestimable _Ms_. Skeeter! She actually had the audacity to look upon him as dirt since he didn't have enough magic to wield a wand.

Collin found himself chuckling in eagerness. Her attitude was why he enjoyed bringing her stories that she would be willing to pay for. Of course, he always made her pay with one Galleon and the services of her mouth. Collin _loved_ looking down and seeing her eyes filled with disgust and hatred behind those hideous glasses she wore as she brought "the lowly squib" to climax.

Hardening at the very thought, Collin leafed through the rest of the file. Seeing another picture, he almost went off in his own trousers.

It seems that the police had traced the 999 call to a public phone near Diggle's flat. CCTV managed to get a clear picture of the caller. Pure balderdash, of course! Obviously a glamour. Still, Collin couldn't help but imagine Rita bent over his desk spreading her own arse cheeks for a copy of the picture of the great Albus Dumbledore winking at the camera.

xXxXx

Molly Weasley sighed in contentment as she continued to knit sweaters her children would thank her for before burying them in the bottom of some trunk in the closet. True, her family had not come into the wealth Dumbledore had promised them, but they weren't doing _too_ badly. Arthur had gotten a long-deserved promotion after the war with a significant upgrade in both pay and influence. Their stipend as Order of Merlin holders also provided a welcome cushion. The medals also assured that she and Arthur were guests of honor at any function they deigned to attend. No other family had ever held so many winners of the Order of Merlin at one time, after all!

It was simply bad luck that the war had come to a head before little Ginny had gotten her mitts into Harry. Ah, what she could have done with Harry Potter's name and wealth as part of her family …. Yes, Ginny had acquired some small bit of fame, but how much better it would have been if she had gotten the coat rather than the tails.

And Fred. That had been a terrible loss. Loosing a child _did_ hurt, but such things happen in times of war. There had been nothing to do but grieve and move onwards. If she had to lose a child, thank Merlin it had been either Fred or George. Fred would have merely frittered his life away with George in that silly little joke shop anyway. Yes, one child out of seven had been a small price to pay for how far her family had come.

Happy in her musings, Molly began to hum a tune by Celestina Warbeck. "_Hmm … do do dah dah_ … come and stir my cauldron …."

Molly glanced at the family clock as she often did. Two wars and the loss of two brothers and a son tended to instill certain habits in a person. Earlier, Ginny's hand on the clock had fluttered strangely, but it had quickly moved from "away" to "home." Which flat was the child staying in now, anyway? Both Hermione and Ronald had been "away" for quite some time now. Evidently, those two had gone on a trip together. Molly dropped her knitting, however, as she saw that one of her children had suddenly been moved to "in mortal peril."

Rushing over to the fireplace, Molly grabbed a handful of floo powder. Dropping to her knees, she stuck her head into the flames produced. "Charlie! Charlie Weasley! Answer your floo right this minute!"

xXxXx

_Damn, even the air smells different here! Everything just seems to scream: cabin in the winter and sex on a bearskin rug in front of a roaring fire. I really should think about bringing some of the girls here._

Harry was happy to have finally arrived. He and his minions had marched through the Romanian forest for hours. Never having been here, Harry had only been able to set a rough guestimation as to where Grubby needed to set the portal terminus. Once they had crested that last slope, however, it was obvious that they had reached their destination. Ginny's description of the preserve itself was, of course, precise.

The pens looked like a large rock quarry. There were not that many buildings around it and most were dark and seemed lacking in personality. Their target was in what seemed more like a cozy cottage set further back from the majority of the buildings. Three other cottages were near the obvious administrative buildings, but only one currently had that "lived-in" look.

Harry decided to send a message to his sergeants. _I'm interested in a man with red hair. Try to take him alive if reasonably practical._

Harry shrugged at the heavy, confused, silence which followed his declaration. The Brown next to Harry glared at the minions around them. "Roolz Senty Eight!" hissed Bob holding up four claws.

"Really?" chuckled Harry. "I could have sworn it was somewhere in the low thirties."

Bob shook his head vehemently. "Noez, mastah. Senty Eight!"

_Sheesh. No sense of humor. I wonder if Hermione or Luna might be able to do anything about that?_

_Well, if we modify the base –_

_Luna! No! Yes, we might be able to do that, but the risk of destabilizing the –_

_Ladies! Please! The Overlord has more pressing concerns at the moment!_

Harry had to chuckle at the various voices in his head. "Okay, children. New rule: Only one telepathic conversion at a time."

_And I would think it highly advisable if you two would allow me to talk through the crystal. I've only been doing this since before the foundation of that "Hogwarts" of yours was no more than a glorified hole in the dirt!_

Harry chuckled, imagining the faces on Hermione and Luna at Gnarl's rebuke. _Alright … sergeants, keep your groups in place and silent. _"Gnarl, have Grubby cancel the old gate and use me as a point of reference for a new one. I want an emergency exit if any of the local beasties get curious as to what's going on. Fifteen meters south-east should keep it out of the line-of-sight."

_He'll have it up shortly, sire._

Returning his attention to his minions, the Overlord went over the plan with his troops. _Reliable intel states that the target lives alone in that house over there. He's the only current full time resident of the preserve. Two teams of Greens enter first, followed by three teams of Browns. Smorez, station your team outside the house. Everyone else, station yourselves between the house and the other buildings just in case anyone else decided to stay in residence._ Glancing at the moon, Harry figured that they had about four hours before the rest of the handlers came in to work. _Greens … go!_

Once the Greens were halfway to the target, the Overlord sent the remainder of his forces forward. Bob remained at his master's side with three Blues and a Red under his supervision, being one of only a handful of sergeants able to handle a mixed team … with anything remotely resembling competence.

"You know, Bob … it seems to have gotten almost too easy. I remember something from my school days about someone talking about no more mountains to climb or more lands to conquer. I think I know how that bloke –"

"MASTAH!" Having been looking up at the Overlord, Bob had seen the red flash over his master's shoulder. Without hesitation, the little Brown had thrown itself against Harry knocking him to the ground. Missing its intended target, the stunner connected with one of the Blues. There was just enough kinetic energy in the Stupefy to knock the creature onto its rump.

One of the rules of Overlord survival was not to ask questions when a minion did something like that. Throwing himself into a roll, Harry put some distance from where he had been before coming up into a crouch and searching for both cover and an attacker.

In the tower, both Hermione and Luna began to yell questions at the scrying crystal. Gnarl quickly wrapped his claws around it and hissed, "Silence! Do not distract him!"

"But he's fighting a wizard!"

Gnarl stared at the agitated brunette. "Yes. And the heads of three wizards have yet to rot off the pikes in front of the tower! Let him do his job!"

Releasing the crystal after the two women nodded, Gnarl leaned forward to see that, having found no cover, the Overlord was sprinting towards the tree line as his minions raced to keep up.

This time, Harry saw the spell racing toward him. His unseen attacker was now somewhere in front of him and trying to keep him from reaching the woods. Using a trick Moody had taught him, Harry hissed, _"Protego!"_ wandlessly and used his rod to cast a Finite Incantatem toward the source of the flash with his other hand. Even though the simulcasting would weaken each spell, Harry's problem had always been knowledge and not pure magical power.

The weaker than normal shield managed to block the stunner but immediately crumpled afterwards. Having been lucky with his own spell, Harry watched as a Disillusioned figure on a broom appeared flying through the air.

_Oh, crap! _ Harry realized that his opponent – more than likely Charlie – was both not surprised by his presence and had a distinct advantage in mobility. _A perfectly good plan shot to hell! I guess it's time for Plan B!_

Luna saw the Minion Master sigh. "Gnarl," she whispered, "what's Plan B?"

"He calls it 'Going Gryffindor.'" With a shrug, Gnarl made a weak circular motion in the air with his closed fist. "Rah."

Realizing that he was now visible, Charlie sacrificed accuracy for speed as he fired stunners at the strangely armored figure. The strange creatures with him seemed to be unable to keep up with his broom. The reddish one seemed to throw small balls of fire at him as he zipped around, but the flames were slow moving and fell well short as long as he stayed in motion.

Harry didn't even bother with stunners. He cast Reducto after Reducto, not caring whether he hit Charlie or the broom. His spells were keeping Charlie from staying still long enough to get a good shot at the Overlord, but Harry was having the same problem. Charlie was almost as good on a broom as he himself had once been!

Harry called back several sergeants from the support group as he continued dueling with his aerial opponent. The rest of the group would remain in case there were other surprises and the assault on the house would continue just in case his opponent _wasn't_ Charlie.

As Charlie dodged another Reducto, Harry watched as the broom-rider aimed a spell at a small outcropping of rock jutting out of the earth before firing another stunner in his direction. As Harry easily side-stepped the red beam, out of the corner of his eye he saw the small boulder turn into a rather large wolf. A wolf which immediately headed in his direction!

_Bob! I've got the flyer! Take the wolf!_

Leaving the two Blues behind – they were rubbish in combat – Bob veered away to charge the wolf as the Red followed, happy to have a ground target for his flames.

The broom-rider gave a piercing whistle just as Harry finally managed to hit the broom. The Overlord smiled, expecting to see the flying-pain-in-the-arse be violently introduced to the ground. He was caught completely by surprise when the figure disappeared. Harry was even more surprised when there was a distinctive "crack" from off to his left. Throwing himself forward, he was just a second too late as Charlie's Bludgeoning Hex clipped him and broke his left arm.

_HARRY!_

_S'okay, Hermione._ Harry gritted his teeth at the pain and tried not to look at the bone jutting through the skin of his arm._ It's just a flesh wound. I've had worse!_

Back in the tower, Gnarl shook his head. Unbelievable as it might seem, that was quite true.

Hearing another "crack," Harry hastily raised another shield between himself and the origin of the sound. As Harry started to turn to his left to face the wizard, he heard a mental shout from Gnarl this time.

_No, Sire! Behind you!_

Changing the direction of his spin, Harry was oddly not surprised – the night having gone pear-shaped already – to see a young Norwegian Ridgeback flying low and straight at him … and perhaps just a few seconds away from smashing into him! _So that's what the whistle was for! Norberta's done some growing, it seems!_

Harry instinctively snapped out an electrical lash at the small dragon which sheared off a wing and a good portion of the right side of its body. Mortal wounds, unfortunately, do nothing to stop momentum. The Ridgeback screeched a death-cry as it slammed into the Overlord, its left claw raking his abdomen and slicing through the armor like it wasn't there as it tumbled past the point of collision.

Lifting himself to his knees, Harry chuckled as he realized that his good hand was currently holding in his intestines. As he found himself slipping into shock, he thought, _Heh! Gnarl … I think Plan B can use some revising. This reminds me of when that damn giant panda …._

As the Overlord fell forward, he was unaware of the various voices screaming out his name.

He was also unaware of the fully grown Hungarian Horntail that had been awoken by a tiny Ridgeback's final screech.

***** First attempt at magical combat. Hope it didn't suck too badly.**

***** The chapter title is – according to Wikipedia – taken from the last stanza of the Romanian national anthem.**

***** Yes, she's a Drone! Deal! In my stories, she will be either a mindless sex-toy, killed in a humorous and bloody fashion, or ignored completely. Not really her fault … to me it's a violent rejection of the Heroine-Marries-Sidekick thing. And the inverse.**

***** I'd now like to officially give this story up for adop- **

**Just kidding! I like to think we all have a little bit of evil bastard in us. Same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel … or thereabouts.**


	13. Lessons

***** Insert generic, witty disclaimer here *****

***** Please bear with me, minions. I _wanted_ our favorite Overlord to be humbled. I wanted him to have both lessons to learn and unlearn. I figured Charlie would be a good teacher. He wrangles dragons for a living, for Merlin's sake! And other characters need lovin', too.**

***** Sorry 'bout the delay. Shh! It happens.**

***** I hereby tender my apologies before the scathing reviews. Determining tactical advantages and disadvantages may be one thing, but putting a fight on "paper" is something completely different. I am now going back and giving glowing reviews to the authors who have managed to pull it off. Expect big battles to now be "off camera" and I'll be heading back to the "Heathers" and "Young Psychos in Love" treatments which I'm more comfortable with. Allow me to just muddle on through to finish this scene out.**

**Chapter 13**

**Lessons**

_When last we left our hero, he had his arm lovingly wrapped around the shoulders of a minor character left undeveloped till the last two books and was smiling at his son (named after two people who were directly responsible for a great deal of misery in his life) as the child boarded the train to Hogwarts. Looking around, he smiled and nodded at marked, unimprisoned Death Eaters milling around and sending their own children and/or grandchildren to that same school. Continuing his visual scan, he spotted and smiled at his close friends: The Most Brilliant Witch of the Age and her husband, the Most Lackluster Wizard. Life was perfect …._

Whoops! Sorry. I must've done too much LDS at Berkley! I have no idea where that may have come from!

Ahem ….

_Lifting himself to his knees, Harry chuckled as he realized that his good hand was currently holding in his intestines. As he found himself slipping into shock, he thought, Heh! Gnarl … I think Plan B can use some revising. This reminds me of when that damn giant panda …._

_As the Overlord fell forward, he was unaware of the various voices screaming out his name._

_He was also unaware of the fully grown Hungarian Horntail that had been awoken by a tiny Ridgeback's final screech._

"Gnarl … is Harry – OWW!" Luna cried out as a chunk of hair over her ear was just ripped from her scalp.

"Get me there. NOW!"

Hearing that cold, furious tone, Gnarl instinctively went rigid. He had heard that tone used many times before during his tenure as Minion Master. But never from one who wasn't an Overlord! It was neither the threat nor even a promise of death. It was the feel of Death's very breath on the back of one's neck; the soul-withering chill of Death's hand on your shoulder.

He looked up to see the female called Hermione pointing one of those strange sticks at him. Knowing that those sticks were like the rod used by his master, Gnarl had some idea as to what could be done with them. The look in the female's eyes, however, was far more frightening than any stick.

"The … the second gate should alre—"

Before Gnarl could even finish, the female disappeared. The cracking sound caused by the displacement of air was barely discernable.

"Hmm, she's good." Turning her attention to the minion, Luna continued, "Send the minions after us. They are to grab Master and retreat."

Gnarl found himself confused, off balance. Responding almost automatically to the calm order, he found himself asking "How many …."

Luna looked at the aged minion as though he were an idiot. "All of them. Blues first." With that, the blond spun and vanished as well.

xXxXx

The Hungarian Horntail eased itself out of its cave and blinked several times rousing itself to full awareness. Swiveling its head from side to side, it noticed the snout of a young Romanian Longhorn poking its head from the mouth of its own cave further down the hill.

The Horntail was currently the oldest resident of the preserve. There were currently six others at this site, not counting the young Norwegian Ridgeback. Not only was the Hungarian the eldest wyrm since the death of his mate several years back, he had also been here longer than any of the others.

Since the discovery of the first dragon at the far end of the map of the known world at the time, European wizards had debated the intelligence of the beasts. Arguments raged to this day. All agreed that they were more closely linked to the very weave of magic permeating the world than humanity, their capability to even fly being considered enough proof of that. Other characteristics which were agreed upon were the sheer majesty of the colossal beasts and their deadliness.

The Horntail, affectionately referred to as "Lou" by the handlers at this preserve, sniffed at the air, troubled by what had awoken him. The youngling had perished … that particular cry had bled into the ether in a manner which left no doubt. The loss of any dragonkin was a sad event in and of itself, but the Horntail found itself curious as well. The youngling had been under the special care of one of their jailers.

Lou was actually rather fond of the red-haired jailer. Over the years the Horntail had watched as the mammal had, despite being a jailer, treated dragons with the respect which they were due. Some harm must have come to that particular mammal if the youngling had met with death.

It has been said that one should never tickle a sleeping dragon. It may also be said that one should endeavor not to arouse its curiosity, either.

Unfurling his wings to their full extension, the Horntail flapped them a few times to shed the stiffness which came with sleep and used its magic to "push" away from the earth. Taking flight, the Horntail flew along the boundaries of the ward penning the dragons within the quarry. Retracing its path again and again, the Horntail pushed harder at the boundary with each passing. Reaching a point at which it could apply no more pressure by itself, it opened its maw and roared for the aid of its brethren.

xXxXx

As much as she wanted to dive immediately into the gate, Hermione took a moment to center herself. Quashing her terror into a tiny ball in the very core of her being, she ruthlessly shoved it away into her subconscious. Fear would prove detrimental to her mission, so she allowed her cold fury and determination to expand enough to fill in the void. By the time she had Apparated into the throne room, she had compartmentalized her conscious mind and was processing various facts and multiple scenarios simultaneously. Factoring in what she had seen through the crystal, she was estimating the strength and skill of her opponent, probable attacks and counters from said opponent, and possibilities of completely bypassing the obstacle he represented from her true goal … securing the safety of a certain messy-haired, green-eyed Overlord.

_He will NOT die!_ _I will NOT allow it!_ _Not again, NEVER again!_ Silently screaming in rage inside at the necessary delay, Hermione used her stolen wand in her left hand to cast a cutting charm onto the palm of her right hand. Forcing her magic through the resisting wand, the first rune she cut into her palm would ensure that the wand would act – while not compatible – at least neutrally towards her. The second rune had been taught to her by a coworker, one who worked with the mysteries of Life. Her magics would now not fail due to magical exhaustion. Once depleted of magic, her very life energy would fuel further castings. She could easily wind up killing herself, but that consideration was immediately filed away as unimportant.

Switching the wand to her bloody right hand, she felt the magics take effect as the wood came in contact with her blood.

Orienting herself upon the gate, she ran straight for the portal and dove through it.

Fortunately, Luna Apparated in just as Hermione was crossing the gate's horizon. The Ravenclaw paused long enough to shout out to any minions who might be within hearing distance, "Everyone follow me! Defend your Master!" Not sparing another glance, she followed the brunette through the gate.

xXxXx

Charlie Weasley felt his chest tighten up as he watched the small dragon tumble to a stop. He had known that Norberta would aid him if he called and had counted on the fact that her presence would be a surprise. Somehow, at the last moment, the armored figure had realized that she was there. Norberta had taken his opponent down, yes, but Charlie didn't recognize that last spell that had been cast.

Fearing for the young dragon's well-being, Charlie rushed toward the two fallen figures. The armored figure wasn't moving, but he kept his wand pointed at him anyway as he rushed toward the still form of the dragon. A couple of those blue creatures seemed to be rushing to the man, but he was more concerned with the creatures which were still battling his Transfigured wolf.

Still hopped up on adrenalin and benefiting from the heightened state of awareness brought about by the pure paranoia induced by a life-or-death situation, Charlie caught a flash of light from the tree line. Twisting himself as he ran, he moved to Disapparate himself to a spot closer to the fallen dragon but at a far different angle from where he was in relation to the flash.

Surprised at the result, Charlie stumbled and fell to one knee.

xXxXx

Molly Weasley was currently hunched over with her head in her fireplace. She had given up on trying to talk to the Aparatori (the Romanian equivalent of the British Aurors). It had taken forever for her to be connected to someone who was able to speak what she considered to be a "real" language … and then they had the audacity to laugh at her! They had no intention of sending out a large force on a clock's say so, but – before they could agree to send out someone to check up on her son anyway – Molly had started berating the poor individual to the extent that he had cut the floo connection.

She was currently yelling at some poor clerk at the Ministry of Magic and demanding that a team of Aurors invade another country so as to rescue her son from some unknown danger.

Molly never noticed the fact that a missing family member had returned to within the detection range of her family clock's magic. As a certain bushy-haired brunette rolled out of a gate in Romania, her arm on the clock fluttered much as Ginny's had earlier. After a moment of seeming indecision, the arm on the clock moved her to the "home" position.

xXxXx

Coming up out of her roll, Hermione's eyes immediately sought out Harry. Spotting his prone figure, she tried to Apparate to his side. Nothing happened. Belatedly, she remembered him mentioning that the activation of a gate seemed to nullify such magical travel in the area for some time afterwards.

Re-examining the situation, Hermione saw that two Blues had almost reached their fallen master. Being closer to the Designated Threat than her objective, she decided it best to nullify the threat and provide the Blues with the opportunity to take care of the Overlord.

Her face frozen into a mask of cold determination, she ran straight towards the kneeling figure of Charlie Weasley.

xXxXx

The Hungarian Horntail known to its keepers as Lou roared in satisfaction as the ward was finally broken. The other dragons in the preserve had answered his call and, together, they had managed to overpower the magic hemming them into the area about their caves.

Once freedom was within their grasp, the other dragons dipped their wings in gratitude to the Horntail but flew off in different directions, eager to place their prison as far behind them as possible.

Lou had expected nothing else. They had not been here as long as he had and did not care about the fate of the red-haired mammal or the youngling. After acknowledging the respect due him, Lou swerved and headed in the direction the death cry had come from.

As the Horntail swooped over the artificial homes of the mammals, it noted small figures of different colors running about. There was a _wrongness_ to them which the dragon could not understand. The dragon could sense that fact in every cell of its body. Outraged at the affront to nature that was their very existence, Lou inhaled deeply and stoked the furnace within his chest.

xXxXx

Charlie shook his head as he lifted himself up off the ground. He couldn't feel the "heaviness" in the air which was normally associated with anti-Apparation fields. Even though confused by his inability to Disapparate, Charlie Weasley fired off stunner after stunner at the figure rushing towards him. Dealing with dragons for over a decade – and surviving – had taught him to react first and question later. He was surprised again as his target bat away each red beam with only the slightest slash of their wand, not bothering to even raise a shield.

Charlie knew that his Stunning Charm was much more powerful than a typical wizard's due to constant use. Most wizards and witches – even Aurors – used it only infrequently. He used it on almost a daily basis on the preserve against creatures almost entirely resistant to the charm. To see them swatted aside as if they were nothing made him nervous. His opponent was obviously skilled. That, combined with the loss of surprise and being cut off from his greatest defensive maneuver (Disapparating almost by instinct being one of the only ways to survive the sudden flick of a dragon's tail, swipe of a claw, a burst of breath, or even the buffet of a wing), sent a chill down his spine.

_Get over it, Charlie! You fought in The War … you've battled Death Eaters, trolls, acromantulas, giants, werewolves, and Dementors on top of handling dragons! There's no cause for worry. It's not like you're fighting Voldemort, Dumbledore, Potter, or –heh—Ronnie's wife!_

As she charged her brother-in-law, Hermione played to her strengths. Neither of them were professional duelers. She knew that Charlie would likely have a limited repertoire of spells, but would likely be _extremely_ proficient in their use. Her knowledge was much more varied and included many charms and hexes and curses which were never taught in schools. Deflection took more skill but required less raw power than setting up magical shields. It also looked impressive and was thus a powerful psychological weapon.

Hermione was well aware that her greatest weakness was her imagination. She might come up with a surprise or two – if planned out before hand – but she was much like a chess player who knew only the precise sequence of moves used by masters and written about in books. Her training had taught her effective spell-chain combinations and tactics to use under certain conditions, but anyone with similar training and skill _and_ imagination would have her wand in hand in short order.

Tonight, however, there were two additional factors to consider: sheer determination and a complete disregard for her own safety.

_Pin down and follow-through_, she remembered an Auror trainer barking out while covering assault tactics. Choosing impressive-looking low-powered jinxes which Charlie would not be familiar with but which could be cast both extremely quickly and silently, she bracketed the dragon-handler with several bursts of the swirling purple energies discouraging him from dodging as she got closer. As expected, his response when faced with the unknown magic was to throw up the most powerful shield he knew.

What Charlie didn't expect was to recognize his attacker as she got closer. "Hermy?"

Frozen by his surprise, Charlie also didn't expect the green energy hurtling towards him as his sister-in-law hissed out the Unforgivable which could not be stopped by any known magical shield.

xXxXx

Having emerged from the gate shortly behind Hermione, Luna had seen the older girl head straight for Charlie Weasley. Knowing that she would be of little help without her wand, Luna had headed straight to where two Blues were frantically working on Harry. Confident that Hermione would do whatever it took to keep Charlie out of the picture, she forced the two combatants out of her mind as she raced for the fallen Overlord. Sliding to a halt on the dew-damp grass, she remained silent and at a slight distance, fearful to interfere with the minions' efforts to save Harry's life.

Glancing down at the preserve proper, Luna's blood turned cold in her veins. Roughly a third of the minions were a short distance away, racing back after being summoned by their master a short while ago. The rest, having received no other orders from the Overlord, stood their ground fully prepared to face the impending doom which soared above them.

A fully grown Hungarian Horntail had already set several buildings ablaze. Swathes of land now cleared of minions still burned and the majority of minions still occupying the area were Reds … and even then, only those near the outer edges of the path the dragon had obviously taken. It was apparent to Luna that the minions had no real defense against aerial opponents and that even the Reds stood little chance against dragon flame, but she was unsurprised that not a single minion broke ranks. Even in an obviously hopeless situation, they would not retreat unless instructed to do so by their Master.

As the first teams of minions approached her position, Luna yelled out, "Blues to the Master! Everyone else protect them!"

There was no hesitation in the simple creatures. Seeing their master incapacitated, they leaped to obey the verbal commands of one of his mistresses. Minions now started appearing from the direction of the gate. Receiving no contrary commands, they joined their fellows enlarging the rings of protection around the Overlord.

"Can he be moved?" demanded Luna.

The Blues immediately surrounding Harry didn't waste time answering, their hands glowing as they poured their unique healing magics into their master. The senior Blue in the second ring surrounding Harry replied, "Not yet, Mistress. Master must be stabilized, first! Two minutes!"

Luna glanced back towards the dragon. It had just about finished with the minions further down the valley. If it headed their way, they would have nowhere near that much time. Looking back to where Hermione had rushed toward Charlie, Luna saw that the brunette was now racing towards them. "Hermione! The Blues need two more minutes!" she yelled as she pointed towards the Horntail which was even now swerving in their direction.

Hermione skidded to a halt and examined the devastation in the preserve. She immediately noted that the dragon seemed to be most interested in the minions. Turning back toward Luna, Hermione shouted "I'll give you five!" Lifting Luna's wand to her throat, Hermione cast a quick Sonorus. "All non-Blues converge on me!"

The minions in question near Luna looked to their Mistress for confirmation.

"Do as she says! Now!"

Spinning around, Hermione began to run away from Harry's position at an angle which took her closer to the dragon. A large, undulating wave of minions flowed towards her. On the run, she began to fire Cutting Curses wildly in the dragon's direction. Not only were the magical beams bright enough to be easily visible in the night sky, they had a much longer range than most other spells. Casting another Sonorus, Hermione screamed as loudly as she was able, "HERE! OVER HERE, YOU BITCH!"

It will never be known if it was the thunderous yell, the slight nudge created by one of the over-powered Cutting Curses actually connecting, or a combination of the two … but Hermione had gotten the dragon's attention. Making a lazy turn in the air, Lou changed direction to investigate the disturbance and cleanse the _wrongness_ he could sense concentrated in the area.

As she ran away from Harry as fast as she could, Hermione made the required grand sweeping motion with her stolen wand as she shouted out, "_Ventus Celeritas!_"

Now having the "Speed of the Wind," Hermione slowed herself to maintain pace with the minions following her, heedless of the constant drain on her magic needed to maintain the spell. Even if the dragon destroyed the minions, she would hopefully be fast enough to dodge its attacks long enough to allow Harry to be moved and taken back to the tower.

_Five minutes! Please, God … Goddess … Morganna … Merlin … ANYONE! Just five minutes!_

xXxXx

Gawain Robards grimaced as he took another gulp of coffee. He hated the flavor of that vile concoction and had no idea how the yanks could swear by it. Bitter taste aside, however, it did open the eyes and deliver a solid kick to the gut when it was needed.

Frowning at the report in his hand, he started to dig back through the pile of paperwork on his desk. _That makes what … four or five missing person reports in less than a week?_ People popped in and out of sight all the time. It was generally over-anxious people erroneously reporting foul-play concerning angry teens, upset couples, and friends simply traveling without telling busy-bodies their every move. Still, he hadn't seen that many at one time since the war. Gawain searched for the other reports wondering if there might be any similarity in the cases.

The door to Gawain's office burst open and a man wearing Senior Auror robes stomped into the room. Gawain could hear a cry of "You can't just walk in without -!"

"It's alright, Miranda," Gawain told his secretary. Jensen was the current holder of his old spot in the force. They had worked as partners for several years before their respective promotions. Looking up at his old friend, Gawain said, "_Please_ tell me this is a social call."

Jensen could tell that Gawain had tried to make it a joke, but one look at his old friend saddened him. His old mate looked haggard. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that he hadn't slept in a week. "I'm afraid not. Have you seen the latest _Prophet_?" Jensen tossed his copy onto Gawain's desk.

Sighing, Gawain picked up the paper and glanced at the front page. Apparently the muggle police were investigating a murder in Kent. He had barely started reading the details when he muttered, "Merlin bugger me with a staff …."

There was a knock on the office door and Gawain's secretary poked her head in. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but Minister Shacklebolt and Albus Dumbledore are on the floo."

"Of course they are," Gawain groaned.

xXxXx

"_Flamma Congelasco!_"

Hermione was tiring rapidly. She was continuously pouring enough magic into her Freeze Flame Charms to lessen the dragon's breath to the equivalent of a muggle flame-thrower. It wouldn't be nearly enough to keep her alive if she got caught in the flames, but it was enough to keep most of her "bait" alive. Due to her charm work, she had yet to lose a Red and had only lost half of the others. Many of those were the worst for wear, but at least they were still moving and distracting the dragon.

Sprinting about and trying to keep herself out of the path of the beast was proving to be more draining than the Freeze Charms or the odd Blasting Hexes she cast when she could. That spell had been designed for quick bursts of speed and was not meant to be maintained for very long.

Lou, for his part, was getting angry. These abominations were rushing about and not congregating as politely as the others near the artificial nests had done. Also, a mammal was stinging him occasionally but racing about swifter than any gazelle. Tiring of it and needing time to replenish his inner fires, the Horntail changed its tactics. Rather than sweep past this time, Lou aimed for the largest concentration of the creatures and landed atop them. Several were immediately crushed by his bulk. Raising his head to roar a challenge, the dragon swept his tail behind him sending several more of the tiny creatures flying.

Standing her ground, Hermione took hold of her wand in both hands and started casting Reductor Curse after Reductor Curse as the surviving minions launched themselves at the dragon, happy to finally have a target they could reach. _That's it! Just a little longer!_

One of the two runes carved into Hermione's right hand began to throb with pain. The blood dripping from her clenched fist increased in rate. Hermione noted it, ignored it, and continued to cast curses.

xXxXx

A clock in England took note as a gate in Romania activated. As an unconscious young man was carried through it by several blue creatures, the arm of the clock representing Hermione Weasley moved from "home" to "in mortal peril." Molly Weasley was currently screaming at a young bureaucrat after being told that the head of the DMLE, the Minister of Magic, and Dumbledore were all currently in meetings and could not be disturbed.

Luna, on the other hand, instructed a few Reds to remain near the gate as she rushed off to where Hermione and the remaining minions were trying to hold off a dragon. Running as fast as she could, she couldn't help but smile as stray thoughts crossed her mind. _I really should get a backup wand. I wonder if snorkack horn would make a good core? Ooo … maybe I'll get the opportunity to try out that muggle healer's uniform I picked up! Harry should like that._

xXxXx

Panting and feeling light-headed, Hermione grimaced as her trembling arm rose to cast another spell. She had switched to Severing Charms in hopes that the lower drain on her reserves would allow her to distract the wyrm longer. The minions were almost all dead after the dragon's last roll on the ground. A few Greens were leaping about, slashing at its sides before jumping away to prepare for another leap. One was even hanging from the dragon's ear and trying to saw it from the beast's head! A brown blur attached to the swishing tail signified that at least one Brown was left alive as well.

"Hermione! He's through the gate!"

"Huh … what?" It took an exhausted Hermione a moment to understand what Luna was yelling. Once she comprehended, she dropped her arm and took a moment to smile in relief. No matter what happened now, everything would be alright. Harry was safe!

An odd calm seemed to settle over Hermione even as she watched more minions die. Replaying the last few minutes in her head, she realized that it wouldn't be too much longer till the dragon would be able to breathe fire once again. _No matter,_ she reminded herself. _Harry will make it. I know he will._

Luna was shocked to find that she was now more worried for Hermione than she had been earlier; Hermione looked as if she were ready to simply lay her wand down and just wait for death! She had to do something …. "Hermione! Your Master still needs you!"

Hermione started as if jolted by a live wire. Yes, Harry might have been taken to safety … but she HAD to be certain!

The Unspeakable within Hermione once again took charge. With a glance, she estimated the time it would take for her and Luna to reach the gate on foot.

They wouldn't make it. And she hadn't the strength to do much more than tickle the dragon … certainly not enough to harm it. Luna was still at full strength … but what would she be able to do?

What would _Harry_ do?

_No._ Hermione found herself grinning. _What had Harry __**done**__!_ "Run for it, Luna! I'll be right behind you!" Lifting Luna's wand high, Hermione shouted "_Accio _Charlie!"

xXxXx

Lou felt that he had dealt with these creatures long enough. The abominations were almost all gone and even that annoying mammal was no longer darting about. Deciding to rid itself of the mammal first, he opened his maw wide and prepared to burn the gnat to a cinder.

As the flames built up within Lou, a cry of "_Depulso_" rang out. Not knowing what a Banishing Charm was, Lou was caught by surprise as the body of the jailer which had been rushing through the air towards the annoying mammal suddenly veered in its flight path. Snapping his head upwards, the Horntail found itself gagging as the red-headed jailor became lodged deep within his throat. Unable to draw in air or expel flame, the dragon stumbled. Trying to swallow the body failed to remove the blockage. It had neither been crushed in the dragon's mouth nor bitten into smaller, more manageable pieces.

The dragon lowered its head towards the ground and its entire body trembled with the force of its attempts to remove the corpse from where it was wedged in its throat. The flexing of its throat muscles finally managed to pulverize many of the bones in the body and allowed Lou to cough up the corpse and spit it to the ground. Enraged, the wyrm whipped its head about, searching for the mammal responsible for its discomfort.

Spotting two mammals and the surviving abominations, Lou took to the air once more. The creatures were rushing towards a strange glow slightly past the tree line. Launching himself into the air, Lou snapped mighty wings and flew after them. The dragon watched as a line of the red creatures split apart to allow the others past them.

The mammals leaped into the light just as a wave of dragon flame immolated the area, turning the stone archway of the portal to slag and setting the forest aflame.

Seconds before the dragon had turned the area into an inferno, a certain arm on a certain clock had moved from "in mortal peril" back to "away."

xXxXx

Luna was wearing a skin-tight white PVC outfit with a large red cross over her left breast. She had no idea that the device hanging around her neck was called a stethoscope, but it was of no concern. The picture on the box implied that it was merely a part of the muggle costume.

At the moment, her only concern was attempting to calm the shivering wreck beside her. "He's going to be fine, Hermione. You heard Leonard. Let them do their work."

Hermione took no comfort in the words. She was still upset that the ancient Blue had refused to let them be at Harry's side while he was worked upon. Luna had finally dragged her away only by convincing her that their presence would merely hinder the work of the Blues.

"He … Harry … he could have been killed!"

"Yes." Luna raised an eyebrow at the distraught Gryffindor. "You do realize who we're talking about, don't you?"

"That's not funny, Luna!"

Luna's eyebrows now furrowed in puzzlement. "I wasn't making a joke. I doubt there was ever a time in his life he was not in danger and did not face the possibility of death. He has always managed to survive, however. And the _one_ time he _did_ die … it didn't take."

Rather than be reassured, Hermione broke down in tears. Even though what Luna had said was true, it had only served to remind her of the role she herself had played in Harry's death.

Luna was at a loss for further words. There seemed to be no way to console the sobbing woman. Gently, she patted Hermione on the shoulder. Looking up, Luna smiled. She had been in error. There was most definitely at least _one_ way.

"Hermione?"

"HARRY!" Her head snapping up at the sound of his voice, Hermione saw her master, her Harry, smiling at her from across the room. Leaping to her feet, she immediately launched herself at him.

As the brunette missile hurtled towards him, Harry wanted to grimace. This was going to hurt! Even though everything was back in the right place and in perfect working order, his lower abdomen felt as if it were full of corrosive acid. Remembering the Great Panda Incident of five years back, he knew that the pain of disembowelment would not completely fade for another week or so.

Seeing Hermione's face, however, Harry didn't have the heart to stop her. The look of overwhelming relief on her face forced him to brace himself and welcome the imminent impact with open arms.

Harry struggled to remain upright as Hermione slammed into him. As she seemed hell-bent on fusing herself to his body, he barely managed to contain his grunt of pain. Thankfully, her head was buried in his shoulder, facing behind him, since he proved incapable of suppressing the grimace on his face at the impact.

Once he had regained his breath and managed to force the majority of pain aside, Harry tried to console the weeping woman. "It's okay, Hermione. I'm fine. There was nothing to worry about. My Blues are the best healers in existence … they reached me in plenty of time." (Actually, it had been a very near thing, but Harry saw no reason to tell her that.) Harry held onto the woman tightly wrapped about him and allowed her to cry herself out.

Once Hermione's hiccupping sobs had stopped, Harry suppressed his grimace and forced his face to assume a smile as he pushed her gently away. "See? Everything's fine."

Harry was caught completely by surprise by the haymaker which connected to his jaw and sent him sprawling to the floor.

"WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING, FIGHTING LIKE A WIZARD!" Hermione screamed down at him, trembling in fury and her weeping renewed. "You told me the Overlord cheats! You … you promised!" she stuttered in broken, renewed sobs.

Everyone in the throne room stood (or lay, in Harry's case) frozen in shock.

The first to recover turned out to be Gnarl. Stepping forth from the corner of the room, he raised his thin arm to point at the trembling figure standing above his master and roared, "MINIONS! Kill that woman at once!"

***** Because of the delay, I wasn't going to do the cliffy … I swear! But … one, it just seemed to work better here. And, two, I wanted to get this out before Christmas. I promise (with abject sincerity, but no absolute guarantee) that I will do my best to get the next chapter out before the new year.**

***** Ye gods, I hate that damn clock! Why did She have to make so many things (house elves, "detect and snatch on something being said", warning clocks, communication mirrors, etc) that left the audience wondering "why didn't they use that to do this?" or "why didn't they take advantage of that several books back?" Sigh. I'm blowing the damn clock up shortly, SO THERE! **

**Hey … it's AU.**


	14. The Fall of Hubris

***** If any of this _were_ mine, I'd currently be typing this on a laptop in a rented cabin watching a flickering fire with honest-to-goodness snow on the ground outside (and ex-fiancé #2 lying nude on a bearskin rug). That ain't happening, so it must not be mine.**

***** There's a certain Harry sub-genre which I don't mind reading, but I won't be writing. Explanations shall be forthcoming ….**

**Chapter 14**

**The Fall of Hubris**

_Hermione had just expressed her … displeasure … with Harry in regards to his actions in Romania. Looking up from the ground where her punch had deposited him, Harry was too surprised to respond._

_Recovering before anyone else, Gnarl pointed at the female who dared assault his master and ordered her death._

Luna felt the ambient temperature of the room go up several degrees. The density of the air seemed to increase to a point where breathing was made difficult. Having no understanding of the word "ozone," the strange smell seemed to remind her of a lightning strike.

The sudden sound was the hardest to describe. It was actually felt more than heard. It sounded like a thousand mirrors breaking … but not; like every tree in an ancient forest snapping … but not; like the deep, deafening rumble of a hundred earthquakes … but not; like a million nails scratching a million chalkboards … but not.

It was but was not a sound which could be comprehended by the mind. Luna strangely imagined it to be the sound of reality itself … protesting. Seeking the cause, Luna believed she found it. "Oh, shite."

Disapparation was still impossible at this point in time and this near the gate. Gnarl had no way of knowing that. He did know pain, however. And he did know that he was currently flying across the room having been backhanded by his master … who had been on his back on the far side of the room one moment and then – after that strange noise – was standing before him the next.

After a brief flight, pain chose to reintroduce itself to the Minion Master as he struck a column, cutting the flight short. He wasn't bothered by it … several masters had expressed their displeasure with him physically in the past … that one female Overlord, especially. What followed, however, proved to be well beyond his experience.

Unknown to anyone in the throne room, the Tower Heart had begun to pulse. Twice … then a pause, then twice again. The rhythm increased in tempo, the pauses decreasing, but remained consistent as the Tower Heart seemed to swell in size with each pulse, glowing brighter and brighter.

The minions closest to the Tower Heart raised their heads and howled. Whatever caused it seemed to move outward in a wave as more and more minions joined in the cacophony.

xXxXx

On the floor of the tower which contained the rooms of the mistresses, a half-asleep Velvet removed her hand from a sleeping Fay's breast. "Minions of the tower ... shut up!" she murmured as she pulled a pillow over her head.

xXxXx

Gnarl had spent centuries serving the most terrifying villains in the cosmos. None of them had prepared him for what he was now facing.

The youth now striding towards him was not an Overlord. He wasn't a wizard. Gnarl would hazard that he wasn't even human. His master was now making a mockery of the term "Evil Presence." Even to call him a force of nature given human form would barely be scratching the surface. The aura of malice and impending doom the Overlord emitted with every step far surpassed that.

Gnarl was certain he cowered before a God made flesh. And that God was angry!

And He wasn't alone.

Everything around Gnarl now existed with the sole desire of destroying the minion utterly. Gnarl could feel the very stones of the tower at his back and beneath him struggling to move for the sole purpose of crushing him. The very air in the tower was thickening. Roused to sentience, its sole goal was to slowly suffocate him for his audacity at angering the Overlord.

Ignoring the murderous intent of the tower around him as the lesser of evils, Gnarl tried to claw his way up or through the wall behind him … whichever would take him further from the Doom approaching him. "I'm sorry … I'm sorry!" he gibbered over and over.

The being that had been Harry slowly approached the shivering figure. He could have vaporized the insect from a distance, but his desire was to feel bones snap in his hands and feel the life of the creature slowly drain from its body.

Luna ran up from behind. Heedless of any danger to herself, she placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Master. Gnarl can not alter his nature."

The words had no effect on the Overlord. Gnarl's death continued forward.

Luna tried again. "Harry, you've scared Hermione. She needs you," she said softly.

The God shrank into himself. The Tower Heart ceased its pulsing. Minions stopped their howls and looked about confused. The tower went back to being merely a tower.

A worried young man turned to look at the blond. "What?"

"Go to her."

Harry looked around the throne room. Seeing that Hermione wasn't there, he rushed off in search of her.

Luna continued forward to kneel before the trembling Minion Master. Gnarl's eyes were still rolling wildly and his breathing was labored. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I warned you before. There's a _thing_. Don't get in the way of _the_ _thing_. The results aren't very nice."

xXxXx

Hermione stared at the dozens of reflections of herself. Her right hand so recently healed by the Blues from the carvings she had made there earlier, was bleeding once again.

Shortly after entering Luna's chambers, she had punched the silvered-glass hung over the wash basin. With the force she had used, her hand was now shattered … broken. Much as her reflection and she, herself, was.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whimpered. "I'm so sorry."

Hermione didn't feel the throbbing pain in her hand. It was far overshadowed by the pain in her chest. She had betrayed Harry once. The Fates had then been kind enough to … no. Harry. _Harry_ had given her the second chance. For the first time in years, she had been allowed to feel whole … complete.

Then she had betrayed him again. Her reasons didn't matter. The fear and anger she had felt were no excuse. She had betrayed him yet again. She deserved … she deserved ….

Her eyes drifted down to the basin before her. Even there, there was no escaping her reflection … the accusatory stares. Several more Hermiones stared back up at her from the shards of glass in the bowl. An exceptionally large, jagged piece seemed to flicker with reflected light. Hermione picked it up with a trembling hand.

_Slice vertically, not horizontally. I remember hearing that somewhere. But straight or try to follow the vein? What about the … femoral artery, wasn't it? Wasn't that supposed to be quicker? In the leg, right? Why didn't I learn more abut muggle biology, damnit!_

Hermione gripped the piece of glass tighter, ignoring the way it sliced into her left hand. She was still trying to decide on the arm or leg when her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

xXxXx

Harry knocked a second time. "Hermione?" He couldn't really explain how he knew to find her in Luna's chambers. It was almost like he could just _feel_ where in the tower she was. He couldn't really explain why he didn't follow his initial desire to just burst through the door, either.

_Stop kidding yourself. You know damn well why!_

Turning his back, Harry slid down to sit with his back resting against the door. "You were right, Hermione. And I'm sorry." Harry chuckled ruefully. "You would've thought that I would've gotten used to that a long, long time ago. I didn't mean to scare you like that." Another sad laugh. "Actually, I didn't mean for anything to go like it did."

Harry had to strain to hear it, but he could make out a tremulous whisper from the other side of the door. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about, Mione. I deserved that punch. I went out all cocky and ended up getting my arse handed to me on a platter.

"I need your help, Hermione. I need _you_."

Again, the voice on the other side of the door was so low that Harry could barely make it out. "Why?" it simply asked.

That one word could have represented any one of several questions. Harry chose to answer the one he was most comfortable with answering.

"I'm the Overlord. I've managed to conquer almost a whole bloody world! On top of that, I'm the sodding Boy-Who-Lived … the Chosen One … the weapon who was meant to take out the one person even Dumbledore couldn't defeat. And I was up against measly Charlie Weasely.

"You were right. I tried to fight like a wizard. That wasn't my plan going out there … but that's what ended up happening. It's not that I bought into my own hype, really. But I guess I wanted to prove that I could. In my arrogance, I wanted to show Charley and myself that he was no match for me. But I'm not a wizard. Charlie is one, though. And wizards don't fight like the enemies I've fought for the past eight years."

"Was."

"What?"

"Charlie _was_ a wizard. I killed him."

Harry chuckled and shook his head. The chuckle died after he realized something. "I'm sorry you had to do that, Hermione. He was probably like family to you."

Harry could almost feel the shrug coming from the opposite side of the door. "It's alright, Harry. He deserved that and worse for betraying you."

Hermione's voice was indifferent … almost listless. Harry had no idea what was going through her mind. She had been one of his best mates before he even began thinking of women in _that_ way. If there was ever a woman he would be able to understand, Harry figured that the woman would be Hermione.

_Guess I'm shite out of luck in that regards, then. Obviously, it's never going to happen._

"I had every intention of going out there and fighting like an Overlord. The minions would handle him, and I would basically just act as backup and take cheap shots at every opportunity. It's just … I don't know. Finding myself back where it all started … stunners flying … brooms … I guess when it combined with my desire to prove myself, it all just ended up going pear shaped."

"It's not your fault, Harry."

Harry snorted in amusement. "In this case, it was. Don't try to spare my feelings, Mione. Lying doesn't suit you."

"So … what are you going to do now?"

"Well, the first step is to pull my head out of my arse. Then I need to listen and learn from someone I can trust; someone who knows more about wizardry then I do. I've been led to believe that there's an incredibly sexy, drop-dead gorgeous Unspeakable out there who may be willing to help me out."

The answering voice seemed to Harry to be a bit lighter in tone. "If I can think of anyone like that, I'll ask him or her to contact you. Maybe I can get them here by tomorrow morning."

Harry sighed in resignation. He wasn't about to force the issue and felt that he had made some progress. "Tomorrow, then. And Hermione …."

"Yes, Harry?"

"I promise to cheat."

"You damn well better!"

Chuckling lightly, Harry stood up and headed back to the throne room. Hermione had sounded pretty rough. He'd leave her alone for a while and give her a chance to pull herself together. Besides, someone still needed to be complimented on an interesting nurse's outfit. And he needed to find Ginny and order the Drone to his chambers. It's not as though he could vent his anger out on Charlie anymore. He just hoped that the Drone would survive the night.

On the other side of the door, a crying Hermione dropped the shard of glass from her hand. _Maybe later. Right now, he needs me._

xXxXx

Harry had turned the small arena in the lower levels of the tower into a training room. He had thought about picking up a few weight machines and the like in England, but he somehow felt that the old ways were better.

He was currently almost halfway through his upper body workout, chopping into a tree trunk around two metres in diameter. He alternated sides with each swing of the massive double-bladed axe. Giblet had called it "Blood Drinker" or some such rot. Many Overlord's had commissioned their own weapons … this one was designed to steal the energy from its victims and transfer it to the axe-wielder. It was much too ungainly for Harry, but it made for a great workout.

Hermione quietly walked into the chamber. She had spent the last hour trying to steel herself for the ordeal to come. She wouldn't be able to help her master by going easy on him. It didn't matter how much it would hurt her.

All of her plans vanished from her mind as soon as she saw Harry. Facing away from her, she could plainly see the scars crisscrossing his back. What truly caught her attention, however, was the rippling of his back and shoulder muscles as he swung the axe in a steady rhythm. It was even more apparent now than when they had shared a bed … this was definitely not the same young man she had known in school.

Finally managing to gather her scattered thoughts, Hermione swallowed hard. Approaching the Overlord she said, "Good morning, Harry. Once you've finished with that, I'd thought it would be good to discuss the battle in general … ask you what you felt went right and what went wrong. After analyzing each, we should try to determine how to fix anything that went wrong before going into spellwork and how you might combine both regular magic and that of the Overlord." _Blessed Morganna, Hermione! You're not that nervous school girl any longer! Breathe! Breathe!_

Harry didn't turn around for the sole purpose of hiding his grin. _Yepper … only my Hermione could say all of that in one breath!_ "That's alright, Hermione. We can go ahead and start now. This is more limbering up than anything else. I won't get too winded to talk."

Harry continued to swing the axe as he replayed the battle in his head. "In general, I was cocky and tried to fight like a wizard. Breaking it down further … I'm used to having the superior intelligence. I'm used to having the element of surprise on my side. I was doubly surprised when I didn't. I still have no idea how Charlie knew that I was coming."

"I have my own ideas about that. I'll tell you later, but it will be important to take care of that problem before you go after the next Weasley. What else?"

"Charlie had the advantage of superior mobility and air superiority. In battle, I'm usually the only one who can Disapparate. And I've only used that, really, to pop behind enemy lines, kill a commander, and then pop back behind the minions. Also, the minions and I have never really fought an aerial opponent. We've fought the odd battle against succubae or fairies … but they couldn't attack from the air. Eventually, they'd have to land to do anything and then you'd just pile on them. The Reds and Greens are used to attacking from a higher position, but we really don't have bupkis to throw at someone flying around aside from my spells."

"That did seem to be a major problem. Not too many people fight from broom-back, but you have to be prepared for it. There is a spell that helps against Apparating opponents by expanding spatial awareness, but the sensory overload can hurt more than it helps."

Leaving the axe imbedded in the trunk, Harry turned to Hermione and smiled. "Leave that one to me. I've got an idea I want to work on when you're not around. Give me a couple of days to work out the kinks. I'd like it to be a surprise."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay. Let's move on for now. What did you do right?"

"Not bloody much," Harry chuckled.

"Language, Harry. Now your basic plan was a good one … if Charlie had been asleep. You need to have more backup plans in place before you move on to your infamous 'Plan B.' Also, you may want to think about the one opponent you _did_ manage to take down."

"Norberta?"

"Yes, Harry. You were caught flat-footed. Even though you were injured doing so, you _did_ manage to take down a dragon. What charm, hex, or curse did you use?"

"I didn't use any of them. I …."

Hermione smirked at him. "Reacted like an Overlord?"

Harry sighed. Somehow he knew that by the end of the day his ego would be hurting worse than his stomach.

xXxXx

Luna had decided to leave Hermione and Harry alone for the first few hours. Deciding that enough time had passed for them to work out any remaining issues, she went to join them in the arena and see how things were going.

Hearing a large crashing noise as she opened the door, Luna rushed in to see Hermione near the center of the arena with her hand over her eyes slowly shaking her lowered head. "Hermione! What's going –?"

"It's alright! I'm okay!" came a high pitched wail from behind the blond and to the right. Turning in that direction, Luna could see an upside-down Overlord slumped in the corner, back to the ground with his legs going up against the wall. Seeing Luna, he gave a weak wave.

Hermione straightened up. "We're going over some advanced wizard spells first. Also, spell-chaining. He felt he was ready for a practical demonstration."

"Oww," came from the crumpled form in the corner. "But I'm feeling better!"

Luna sighed. Hermione shook her head sadly. "It looks like we've got a lot of work in front of us."

"I think I'll go for a walk, now!" wailed the Overlord.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know." Turning back to Hermione, Luna asked "Is my wand still fighting you?"

"What! You mean she's not even using a compatible …? Crap."

Both women turned to face their fallen master. "Harry … language."

xXxXx

Feeling that she had humiliated Harry enough, Hermione slipped out of the chamber and left Luna going over some necromantic spells she had learned from the grimoires they had purchased in Knockturn Alley.

She had left barely in time. Her mental walls had begun to crumble under the constant onslaught. After a quick stop in the dungeons, she dragged herself up to Luna's chambers.

Taking hold of a large chair, Hermione did her best to wedge it against the door. It wouldn't do for someone to come in unexpectedly. Entering the small chamber which acted as the WC, Hermione removed her clothing and knelt in the center of the large copper tub.

Reaching outside of the tub, she picked up the item she had appropriated. After a few moments of examining the scourge and testing its weight, she whispered, "I'm sorry, Harry."

She repeated the apology between each and every lash.

***** I enjoy occasionally reading a Super Harry story. Obviously, I am not writing one, however. Super Harry just usually ain't funny, I'm afraid. Harry and the Tower Heart will become more … attuned, I guess, as the story progresses. It will have to do more with will power and perhaps tapping into reserves when his own mana is exhausted. In general, it will have no real effect in this story, but will be used in Book 2 as a means to work around a few problems. (Hint: Group Occulmency)**

***** Yes, Velvet deserved more than just a cameo. But someone had to say it. I just couldn't stop thinking about George Hamilton in "Love at First Bite."**

***** Don't get too upset. This will be pretty much it for "Harry getting his ass kicked in training." I'll be going on to the results after this. I'm not going to do an 80's training montage (no matter how good the music is when you're feeling nostalgic!).**

**Have a good New Year everyone!**


	15. Me More Than You

***** The fanfiction author opens his wallet to release the sole occupant – a moth – from within. Nuff said.**

***** Everything I wanted is here. It's a tad shorter than I would like and a tad unpolished. It's been a _long_ week and I'll be decompressing in an alcohol stupor for a few days. I figured that I should release this now rather than wait till I recover.**

**Chapter 15**

**Me More Than You**

_**Local Hero Dies in Romania**_

_**By Reginald Nockweather**_

_Charlie Weasley, holder of the Order of Merlin (3rd Class), was reported dead yesterday. Initial reports are that the containment wards at the dragon preserve where he worked failed. Our favored local son was the Senior Handler for the Romanian preserve and was the only person on site at the time of the mass escape. Apparently, Mr. Weasley heroically tried to keep six dragons from escaping and even managed to put down one of the beasts, but was eventually overwhelmed by the sheer number arrayed against him._

_Our readers are well aware of the heroism displayed by the Weasley family during the war against You-Know-Who. They hold a record eleven Orders of Merlin amongst them (one awarded posthumously). Our hearts go out to this noble family in their time of grief._

**Remembering the Battle of Hogwarts – pages 2-4**

**The Weasleys: The Family of Merlins – pages 5-6**

**Charlie Weasley: Remembering a Hero – page 6**

**Are Our Preserves Safe? – page 7**

xXxXx

"It's been over a week, Gawain. Now that the Romanians have finally delivered the body, it doesn't seem right to keep him from his family any longer. Let them take his body and bury the poor lad."

Gawain Robards looked even more haggard than he had the last time Jensen had seen him. "I fully intend to … but I don't like coincidences. Even though there was no note nor some sort of signature, I just want to make sure that Charlie here isn't part of the rest of the shit-storm. That's why you're here. I want the sharpest eye I know to go over the stuff the Rom's sent us."

Senior Auror Jensen merely shrugged and turned back to the body lying on the morgue table. Picking up the folder he was given earlier, he started to go through it. "Body was found in a clearing near the preserve … evidence of dragon's digestive fluids on the body. Rather than be consumed, the corpse seems to have been regurgitated. Unusual, but not unheard of. Body was partially crushed, but there's no evidence of bites, rips, or tears. Also unusual but not unheard of."

Finishing the report, Jensen moved on to examine the photos in the folder. He looked at the placement of the body, the dragon corpse found at the scene, and the fire damage done to the preserve and forest itself.

"A broken broom was found at the scene … the photos seem to show evidence of an air battle over the preserve with the dragons trying to burn him out of the sky. It looks like he was brought down in the clearing and managed to bring a young wyrm down with him." Putting down the folder, Jensen moved over to Charlie's wand and cast a spell on it. "He put up a fight. Stunners … a shield … a Transfiguration and a Dillusionment Charm. The only thing that looks unusual to me is the fact that I, personally, would've used any dark curse I could think of if six dragons were after my arse."

Gawain sighed in relief. Maybe his gut had been wrong and this had been no more than an unfortunate accident. "Not me. I'd be too busy pushing my broom to haul my bum outta there to even look behind me! But if you believe the papers, you'd _know_ that the Weasleys must have white magics shooting out their arses." Running a hand through his rapidly thinning hair, Gawain sighed again before letting out a relieved chuckle. "I hereby declare us to be officially off duty for the rest of the day. Let me buy you a firewhiskey down at the pub."

Jensen's easy smile slowly turned into a frown. "Hold on a minute." He began to tap his chin with his wand. Inwardly, Gawain tensed. He had seen Jensen do that before when they were partners … and it had usually led to overtime.

Jensen re-holstered his wand and reopened the folder. Quickly, he went through all the photos once again. Upon reaching one, he pulled it out and examined it closely. He finally put down the photo and turned a serious expression to his old friend.

"This was no dragon accident."

Jensen tossed the photograph over the body of Charlie Weasley to land before Gawain. "He didn't cast any cutters. That dragon was practically sliced in half. If someone else were there, I'd say that the body condition held two 'unusuals' too many."

"Bugger me with a clan of trolls," groaned the Head of the DMLE.

"Hm … Weasley … Weasley … Weasleys. Gawain … where's the cock-robin one who's usually strutting about the ministry?"

"Ronald? Been a bit. Seems he's always having a row with the wife and runs off like some spoiled chav for a few days."

"Seems to have been a while, though."

Gawain thought back to the last time he had seen the Weasley in question. He had been concentrating on the 'Albus Murders' lately to the neglect of almost everything else. One week ago? Two? Possibly three? "And Merlin take away the lube!" Spinning on his heel, Gawain burst through the morgue doors. He needed a team checking out Ronald Weasley's house right now!

xXxXx

"No Apparation? Your enemies won't grant you that courtesy, you know."

"I know, Hermione, I know. My surprise is just about ready. A little more practice is needed, though."

Hermione sighed. "Alright, Harry. For right now, we'll pretend that we are near a recently used gate. But everything else is fair game. Like I told you yesterday, it's time to show me what you can do against a witch."

"And afterwards … what I can do _to_ a witch?" asked Harry while waggling his eyebrows.

Hermione simply blushed. "On the count of three, then."

Once she had counted down, Hermione threw herself to the side and fired off a quick stunner at Harry hoping to take him down quickly with minimal injuries.

The red beam splashed harmlessly against his 'halo' shield. Smiling at her, he slowly and casually raised his rod and performed the speed charm she had taught him.

Hermione knew that she was in a better position than most of his enemies would be. She knew about his Overlord magics and what they could do. Harry could cast wizard's magic upon himself within the shield, but could not cast a spell at her from behind it. She also knew that he could only hold the shield for a couple of minutes before it would tire him out.

Knowing that casting spells directly at him while his shield was up would be useless, Hermione sent a blasting hex at the sand between them. Creating a small vortex, she kept the sand swirling in the air around him hoping to obscure his vision.

Splitting her concentration, Hermione maintained the vortex and was about to cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself when several green bodies suddenly slammed into her and knocked Luna's wand out of her hand. With her concentration broken, the swirling sands fell back to the arena floor.

Looking up from buffing his nails, Harry smiled and allowed his shield to fade. Drawing his sword, he covered the eight metres to the restrained woman in only a second. His Greens flipped her over onto her back and Harry lowered the point of his sword to her throat. "Did I do okay, Professor?"

"You … you cheated!"

"I stationed them there last night, so I'd have to say –" sheathing his sword, Harry moved to lay atop the restrained woman. "—yes. Yes, I did." He smiled down into her eyes.

She laughed as the Greens released her, allowing her legs and arms to wrap around the Overlord as she pressed her lips to his.

xXxXx

Gnarl and Harry sat across from each other, small grey boxes open before them. Picking up a peg, Harry smiled evilly at the Minion Master. "That would be a _swisssh_ and a _plop_!"

Gnarl thumped his tiny fist against the table and grumbled.

"Master?"

Harry looked up, just noticing the girl who had entered the room. "Yes, Luna?" Seeing the expression on her face, his own became one of concern. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so, Master. If you'll remember, I nipped back up to my room to get that other book with the spell I wanted to show you. I was surprised to see a few Blues leaving my chambers. Pulling one to the side, I asked him what was going on." Chewing on her lower lip, Luna gathered her courage and almost whispered, "Hermione's been engaging in self-flagellation."

"What!" Luna could see the anger building in Harry's face. "And she's inviting Blues to watch and not me!"

Luna cocked her head to the side and looked at her master strangely. "Harry … do you know what 'self-flagellation' means?"

"Isn't that when a woman … well …." Sticking out his arm, Harry bent his hand at the wrist and started making strange motions in the air.

Luna sighed in exasperation. "No, master. It's not that."

Harry quickly dropped his arm, embarrassed. "Luna, I know that I, the Overlord, do not have your superior intellect and education, but could it be that once again, intentionally or not, you are trying to give me a brain tumor? What. Is. Self-flagellation?"

"She's been physically punishing herself … whipping herself to the bone. The Blues have been healing her afterwards. That's why we haven't noticed."

Harry's face had gone almost white. "How long?" he whispered.

"According to the Blue … every day since you were wounded in Romania."

The Overlord lowered his head in disbelief. "She's been blaming herself for my cock up? That makes no sense at all!"

"Actually, Master, I think it's more likely that she's been punishing herself for striking you afterwards."

"That's insane!"

Luna nodded. "Yes … but remember when we talked about her feelings of guilt? That proved enough to shatter her psyche. Now, in many ways, she's even more fragile. Remember that I've seen her mindscape. Your book is on a pedestal at the very center of her Library. You are now the center of her universe … even more so than before. And she struck you in anger."

Once again, Harry lowered his head. His shoulders began to tremble. Luna stepped back as he raised his head and she saw the expression of cold fury on his face. "Enough!"

"Master?"

"I … have had … ENOUGH … of this SHITE!"

Harry's thoughts went to Hermione. In his mind's eye, he saw her crying and purposely injuring herself. He didn't question if the image were a true one or one simply created by his imagination. It didn't matter in the slightest to him. He could _feel_ that she was still within Luna's chambers. Both his Minion Master and his mistress scrambled out of the way as Harry marched off, his anger seeming to build within him with each step.

Luna noted that his anger was actually palpable, his aura nearly as strong as it was when she had feared for Gnarl's life. That time, however, it had been more focused … obviously centered toward the destruction of a single target. This anger, while monumental, seemed to be more _general _than specific. She did note that the minions weren't howling. Yet.

The Overlord stormed up the stairway. _No more! No bloody more! If she wants to act like a bloody be-damned house elf …._

Harry froze as an image came to his mind. Hermione the House Elf. In his mind's eye, he saw a cowering Hermione standing before him, coming up only to his waist. Long ears flapped with every shake of her overly large head. Her bust and hips retained their measurements on her tiny, elven body which was in no way obscured by the blue, completely sheer teddy his mind had clothed her in. Wide-open, bulbous eyes spawned a cascade of tears as she trembled and clasped her hands together while begging to be punished.

Paused upon the stairs, the Overlord violently shook his head. _That's absolutely disgusting! But somehow strangely arousing._ Shaking his head again to rid himself of the disturbing image, Harry resumed his march up the stairs.

Harry did not bother to even try the door to Luna's chambers. As he stormed forward, the barest flick of a finger brought into existence a massive lash of electrical energy that snapped forward and blew the door into kindling. Never having paused in his progress through the door, he stopped in the center of the room. "HERMIONE! Get your ass out here RIGHT NOW!"

Hermione came rushing into the room at Harry's shouted command. Her blouse flapped at her side, only one arm having been inserted into a sleeve as of yet. She looked at Harry with wide eyes, her expression identical to that of a youngster caught masturbating by their parents sudden arrival into their room.

Harry pointed at the girl and growled, "Sit!"

The brunette immediately dropped to the stone floor, her legs having taken on the rigidity of wet noodles before her mind had even consciously registered Harry's order.

"How dare you!"

Hermione dropped her head. "Master, I –"

"That wasn't a question!" Clasping his hands behind his back, Harry proceeded to slowly walk around the trembling figure on the floor. The icy tone of his voice actually sent shivers up Luna's spine where she stood outside of the doorway having followed Harry to her chambers alongside Gnarl. "It has come to my attention that you have been harming yourself daily … and having my Blues remove the visible evidence afterwards. Is that correct?"

Hermione did not raise her head. "Yes, Master," she whispered.

"How dare you? What gave you the right? And, yes! This time it _is_ a question!"

"Master, I –"

"Shut it! I don't really care! I'm going to tell you this once and once only so you damn well better pay attention! I find your actions to be completely unacceptable. _You_ have no business determining whether you deserve punishment! _You_ have no right to determine the form any punishment should take! If you feel that you deserve to be punished for something, you will ask _me_ and abide by _my_ decision." Stopping to crouch beside the trembling figure, Harry grabbed a handful of brown hair and twisted her head to face him. "Are we clear so far?" he practically spat at her.

"Yes, Master!" Hermione yelped, dropping her head as he released his hold.

Clasping his hands behind him once again, Harry paced back and forth before the woman on the floor. "I AM going to punish you … but not for striking me. You knocked some sense into me when I needed it. You've always done that, and that's just one of the reasons I love you."

Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes wide, as did the heads of the two standing outside of the doorway. Oblivious, Harry continued his tirade. "You shall be punished for both your presumption and for harming that which belongs to me. Namely _you_! Once you have been punished, it will be put behind us and nothing like this shall ever occur again! Do you have any confusion about anything I've said?"

Hermione looked up at her master with wide eyes. "I – I –"

"Good! Now get your arse down to the dungeons and prepare yourself for punishment. I'll be there to mete out your punishment whenever I decide to show up." Harry looked down to see Hermione staring at him with a dazed expression on her face. "NOW!"

Hermione exploded into action. Leaping to her feet, she raced out the destroyed doorway. Harry followed at a more sedate pace. He decided that he would let Hermione stew for a few hours. He needed a drink. Okay, several.

Gnarl stared at his master as the Overlord passed them by. Beside him, Luna was bouncing on her feet, her smile stretching from ear-to-ear.

"He has no idea, does he?"

"Nope!" she giggled.

Gnarl ran his palm across his forehead. "Poor, clueless bastard."

"Yup!"

Shaking his head, Gnarl wandered off in search of a small Brown to kick until he felt better.

Luna skipped down the hallways and stairs until she reached the Spawning Pit. Several bony eye-ridges were raised by minions as she skipped to the center of the chamber and reached up to pat the Tower Heart. Its glow seemed to brighten in the spot her hand came in contact with. "He's getting there. It might take a while, but he's on the right track."

The Tower Heart kept its own counsel, but seemed to pulse a bit more warmly than it had before.

xXxXx

Spreading his fingers, Harry began to curl them one at a time. It felt like his hand was cramping up upon him. _This crap is nowhere near as easy as Velvet makes it look._ Not wanting to give the sobbing Hermione too much of a break while he flexed his hand, he gave her another short burst of his _Dominor_ which acted – at its lowest level – much like the Cruciatus Curse.

Wincing at the pitch of her wail, Harry tried to focus on other things. _If a canning is done with a cane, is Hermione receiving a cropping? Can a person be caned with a riding crop? Some crops are cane wrapped in leather … Velvet only knows what this one is made of! What would it be called if the damage is being done by a cane crop? The leather tongue at the end finally flew off the crop sometime back … does that make a difference? Is it no longer technically a crop?_

Snapping his sore wrist several times, Harry continued to try to distance himself from Hermione's cries. Harry examined the red welts which almost completely covered Hermione's bum. _If I whip it out and take her up the bum right now, that would probably hurt her._ After a moment, he shook his head. _No, no. The girl's not completely right in the head. I need to get this hurting herself garbage out of her mind. Taking pleasure in causing her pain might start taking me down a slippery slope. I don't really want to go there. Might be fun, though – no, Bad Harry! Stop thinking about it!_

Deciding to give her arse a break, Harry placed the broken crop on a nearby table and took a thickly braided whip from the wall. Approaching the nude, weeping woman, Harry shook his head in wonder. _How in Merlin's name did she get herself up there, anyway? Two feet off the ground … spread-eagle … tilted forward at maybe a forty-five degree angle? Getting herself into __**two**__ of the manacles, I can see. She's Hermione … so I'll even let three go by. How the Hell did she manage the fourth, though?_

Rearing back, Harry snapped the whip. A red line appeared between Hermione's shoulder blades. Walking around the girl suspended in the air by chains, Harry casually continued to whip her. _Mental, Hermione. You're completely mental._ Unbidden, an image of Ron came to Harry's mind. Grinding his teeth unconsciously, his next lash ended up poorly aimed and much harsher than he had intended. As Hermione screamed, Harry rushed up and pressed the loosely hanging flap of skin back to her cheek. "Sorry! I'm sorry about that one, Mione! It was an accident!"

Hermione couldn't find the strength to speak. After a few long gasps, she merely nodded.

Harry placed the whip on the table. Grabbing a handful of hair, he carefully raised her face to look into her eyes. "I think that's enough. Don't make me punish you again, Hermione." Harry gently placed his lips to her forehead. "Let me get you down. The Blues will take you to Luna's room and heal you up. Get lots of rest. I expect you to come to me tomorrow morning and wake me up. You will then proceed to pleasure me. And I fully expect you to pleasure me so much that a muggle surgeon will be necessary to remove the _bloody_ smile from my _bloody_ face. And then this will be done. The past will be past. Are we clear?"

Harry had already released her from the manacles by the time Hermione was able to speak. Unable to stand, her limp body was pressed against him as Harry held her as tenderly as he could. "Yes, Master," she said as loudly as she could into his ear. Harry had to strain to hear her. She quietly sobbed into his shoulder. Because of their position, Harry couldn't see the contented smile on her tear-stained face.

The Blues Harry had mentally summoned came and took Hermione from Harry's arms. As the creatures carried her away, Harry shook his head. _Why me, Merlin?_ _It seems like every woman I know is a complete nutter!_ Grabbing a rag, Harry dabbed at the blood which had gotten on his clothing. Cleaning spells were pretty good but had a problem with removing bloodstains. Tossing the rag into a nearby bucket, he sighed. _I'm betting this outfit is probably a lost cause._

Harry started to return the implements and whips he had used upon Hermione to their proper place. Velvet was a bit of a stickler about her toys, and Harry had no desire to piss her off. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he realized that he should probably do something about cleaning the whip and other tools he had used as well. The broken riding crop he would probably just hide … or throw off the edge of Jester's Jump.

Looking around, Harry didn't see anything resembling saddle-soap. With a shrug, he decided to wander around. He didn't really enter his dungeon or torture chambers that often anymore. Velvet actually seemed to like that part of his 'job,' so he left it mostly up to her. There had to be something around here to clean her toys up with, however.

Walking down the hallway, Harry kept an eye out for cupboards or tables which might contain that which he sought. As he walked, he ruminated on his current frustrations. _I shouldn't put up with all this crap! I've got enough to deal with … ruling my kingdom … Dumbledore … the Order …. I've got to put my foot down. The sex is great, but enough with the psycho females! It's time to make it absolutely clear: I'm done with the insanity! No more chaos! _As he passed them, Harry nodded at two nude women chained to the wall. "Hi, Lav … Parkinson." _I mean … I've got plenty on my plate and having to deal with their shite is just more than I'm __**going**__ to deal with! And I don't have to, either! I'm the Overlord! It's not like I married them, damnit! They're mistresses. They'll just have to learn that what the Overlord wants, the Overlord gets! Even if it's just a little bit of sanity in his own tower. Between Hermione and …._

Harry stopped. "Little Luna" made her presence known. Lowering his head, Harry turned back in the direction he had just come from. Retracing his steps, the punching bag that was the back of his left eye was receiving a growing workout. The blows came harder and faster with each and every step he took. Stopping before the women chained to the wall, Harry quietly said, "Hello, Lavender." Turning to the dark haired girl manacled next to his old classmate, Harry added, "Hello, Parkin—no." _It's kind of silly, standing on formalities when talking to an unclothed female chained to your dungeon wall_, he realized. "Pansy. It's been awhile, ladies."

Lavender worked her mouth, but nothing came out of it. Pansy finally managed to lift her head and muttered, "Muh—muh—master?"

Harry simply shook his head and sighed. "Tomorrow. I'll deal with you two tomorrow." Thinking about what he had told Hermione, Harry clarified, "Late tomorrow."


	16. I Guess the Joke's on You

***** Something, something. Not for personal profit … something, something. Belongs to people much less twisted than myself.**

**Chapter 16**

_**I Guess the Joke's on You**_

_Ta-Ta-Tap._

_Ta-Ta-Tap._

_Ta-Ta-Tap._

The only sound in the room was the drumming of his fingers upon the tabletop. Luna sat across from him, an innocent expression upon her face. _Ooo … pull the other one!_ Hermione stood behind Harry. He had offered her a seat next to him, but she had demurred. Apparently, she was still quite a bit sore from her punishment from yesterday and her activities this morning.

Despite his desires, a small smile crossed Harry's face. Surgery may not have been required, but Hermione had managed to come damn close. _When she brought in Ginny after our first round … well, not everyone gets the opportunity to actually fulfill __**half**__ their school fantasies!_ Forcing a stern expression back onto his face, Harry asked, "Do you know why I wanted to talk to you?"

"To arrange special outfits for tonight's threesome? Or will it be a foursome?"

"What? No! I was in the dungeons the other day -" Harry ignored Hermione's slight squirming as she carefully tugged the back of her slacks away from her derriere "- and was quite surprised to run across two young women of our acquaintance -"

"The Patils?"

"What!" _Armrests … armrests … armrests … NO! Stop that, Harry! Yes, they _would_ make three-quarters of my old fantasies, but this is about Luna! Concentrate! _"Um … no. I was talking about Lavender and Pansy."

"Oh," smiled Luna. "_Those_ two should be ready in the next couple of days."

"So … uhh … I take it there's more, then?"

"Oh, absolutely! Operation 'Hogwarts Reunion' isn't even halfway complete."

"How … how many?"

"Seventeen, so far."

Harry's jaw dropped. After staring at his mistress for a moment, his mind doubled the figure she had given him. His shocked expression was replaced by one of confusion. "Waitaminnit! I don't even think that there were that many girls in my year!"

Luna rolled her eyes. "You have me and Ginny, silly. I very much doubt that a teenage male's roving eyes were limited to his own year. I was planning on at least one year above and below … possibly two." Glancing upwards, she tapped her chin. "Maybe three? That _is_ a nice magical number."

Harry stared at the smiling blond.

The smiling blond tilted her head to the side.

"Um …."

"Oh! I just realized something!" Luna dug a hand into her robes and pulled out a rolled up scroll and an ever-inked quill. "Would you like any Professors? They're a bit old, yes, but maybe for a sentimental shag or the like? I was thinking of Madam Hooch. There's something about those strange eyes and leather riding boots that –"

"Luna! No! No more! This has to stop. It ends now."

The tiny blond seemed to shrink into herself. Her eyes grew misty and her lower lip trembled. "But … but … the _Flying Foxes_ were next on the list!"

THUNK!

_And THERE's the last quarter._ Unbidden, images of young women wearing naught but quidditch pads flying around on brooms entered Harry's mind. Followed by after-game showers. Lots of showers.

Hermione looked nervously at Harry where his forehead was in contact with the top of the table. Glancing over to Luna, she saw that the blond looked close to tears. Her heart went out to the younger woman. She and Harry were now together _because_ of Luna. In many ways, she owed _everything _to the little Ravenclaw.

"Harry?" Gently, Hermione laid a hand upon Harry's shoulder. "Perhaps this deserves some thought."

"_Et tu?_" he moaned, not bothering to raise his head.

"Honestly, Harry. Don't tell me that there isn't a small part of you that's not thrilled by the prospect. Yes, Luna seems to have developed some sort of strange enslaving-people thing … but she's been doing it for you."

Harry sighed. "I know, but …."

"And … and ..." _Think, Hermione, think! _"... and it can help serve your greater purpose." Seeing the shocked expression upon his face, Hermione playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "Not your _special _purpose! Your _greater _purpose_ …. _your revenge."

"I'm not following you."

"She's obviously been very careful about it … if a tad excessive. But this is something too big for the Ministry to ignore, no matter what else is going on. The Aurors will have to split their forces."

Harry could see the logic to that. Well, to be truthful, he knew that at least _one_ of his heads was insisting that he see the logic to that. "Well … okay. I'll let this go for right now. But, Luna, you have to be _very_ careful with this. I don't want you getting caught. And you have to keep me up to date on what's going on."

The blond immediately chippered up and smiled brighter than any _lumos_. "Okay, Harry!"

"And … um … Luna?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"How much longer till the _Patils_ are ready?"

xXxXx

Gnarl rolled his eyes. "Sire … if you would be so kind as to stop playing with your armrests, we have a few more things to go over."

Releasing a nipple from either side, Harry stopped playing his game of "Let's Dial Radio-Free-Europe" and sheepishly looked back to his Minion Master. "Sorry, Gnarl. You were saying something about … something?"

Gnarl shook his head and sighed. "We're low on minions, sire. There were a great many lost in that dragon engagement. We did manage to gather up a few survivors … but there weren't that many, I'm afraid."

"Yeah. The sheep pens will do for the Browns, but I'll have to hit the forest to stock up on soul energy for the Greens. How are the Reds and Blues?" _I'm just glad that the minions are so tidy in death. After a few minutes, they turn to some kind of sludge. Then the sludge just evaporates! Reminds me of the alien villains in that weird show Dudley used to watch. What were they called again? Lugo-Men?_

"Fortunately, they suffered the least casualties. You can hold off on harvesting for them, if you'd like."

"That's good to know." Harry began to work out a timetable in his head. There was so much which needed to be done.

_Tu-Tu-Tump._

_Tu-Tu-Tump._

_Tu-Tu-Tump._

Harry looked to his tapping fingers. Drumming fingers on a girl's breastbone sounded much different than they did on wood! Curious, Harry made use of the flat of his other hand on the chest of … Padma? Parvati? Well … the _other_ sister.

_Whap. _

Harry smiled.

_Tu-Tu-Whap. Tu-Tu-Whap. Whap-Tu-Tu. Tu-Whap-Tu-Tump. Whap-Tu-Tu … Squelch!_

"Sire!"

"What!" asked a startled Overlord before he could try out a rim shot. Well … the _other_ rim shot.

xXxXx

"But enough about me, dearies." Sniffling, she dabbed her hanky to the side of her eye. "I must say, aside from still being far too skinny, you look better than I've ever seen you. It looks almost like a great weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.

"I've been noticing the same thing, Mrs. Weasley," agreed the blond.

Hermione blushed. "While away in Egypt doing research, I came to a number of realizations. I try to take control of too many things. It's better to simply listen to your heart."

"And the man your heart belongs to, eh?" Molly Weasley smiled at the younger girl's nod. Despite the tragic accident in Romania, at least her daughter-in-law was finally listening to her. Perhaps she'd make a _proper_ wife yet! "Sometimes they _do_ need to be guided … but gently. Your bossy ways would never lead to a happy home. Now that you're _finally_ seeing sense, you should really come over more often. I'll teach you how to make Ron's favorite meals. The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach, after all."

The blond looked confused. "Really? I always thought it would be faster if you go through the genitals. Unless you're talking literally. In that case, without proper tools, I guess it would be under the breastbone and then up at an angle."

"Pardon?"

"Would there be any more of that delightful pie?" squeaked Hermione, trying to divert Molly's attention away from Luna.

"Why, yes. Of course."

"I'll get it," chirped Luna as she hopped up from her seat, eager to leave Molly's presence. It had been Hermione's mistake to join the old harridan's family. Luna had only managed to tolerate the woman's snide remarks and disgusting need to be the center of attention since their arrival by constantly picturing the redhead screaming her head off under Ms. Velvet's skilled ministrations.

"I still don't like that girl," sniffed Molly as soon as Luna had left the table.

"I know, Molly. But thank you for putting up with her. She's seen the Light and is trying to make amends. You know how the Headmaster always talks about second –" _and third and fourth and … _"—chances."

"I know, I know. I must confess, however, sometimes it is quite difficult to be as great-hearted a person as Albus no matter how much I strive." Deigning Hermione with a small smile and pat on the hand, Molly changed the subject back to the matter at hand. "When do you think Ronald will get back?"

"I don't really know, mum. He'd been talking about following the Chudley Cannons on their European tour for so long … I finally realized that it was not my place to say nay."

Molly's smile grew larger. "I'm happy for you two. I just wish it wasn't at such a tragic time. He might not even know of Charlie's accident yet." Molly sniffled again while trying to determine what needed to be done before the reporter for _Witch's Weekly_ came by to interview her for their cover story. _And I wonder if magical preserves are protected from litigation? I must have Arthur check into that._

"I'm sure you'll be together sooner than you think," smiled Hermione.

"I'm sure you're right, dear. The Wizarding World has been quite kind with their gifts, cards, and flowers … but there is nothing like being with family in such trying times."

"With the ones you love," corrected Hermione … a differentiation which went completely unnoticed by the Weasley matriarch.

Luna returned with the pie. After glancing at her wristwatch, Hermione made a show of looking about the table. "We seem to be low on pumpkin juice. I'll pop into the kitchen and get some more."

As Hermione left, an uncomfortable silence settled over the table. Molly felt slightly unnerved by the blonde's odd smile and unblinking eyes.

Discomfort turned to outrage, however, when the odd girl finally spoke.

"You're a real bitch, Mrs. Weasley. I just thought you should know."

THWACK!

As Molly fell face forward onto the table, Luna looked to the woman standing behind her. An iron skillet was held loosely in Hermione's right hand. "You could have used my wand, you know."

Hermione shuddered as she tilted her head upwards, her eyes closed and a small smile formed on her face. "No. This … much … better," she gasped.

"Hermione? Did you just …?"

"Shh. _Please_ … let me … enjoy … this moment."

xXxXx

Molly awoke to find herself petrified and propped up against a tree outside of the Burrow. To her even greater surprise, she saw her daughter-in-law practically humping the leg of a strange man who was not Molly's son!

"It looks like she's awake," came from Luna who had been standing to the side of the brazen couple.

The dark haired stranger chuckled in a strangely familiar manner. Placing his hands on Hermione's shoulders, he gently tried to push her away as he smiled into her lust-filled eyes. "Down, girl. Arthur won't be at work for much longer."

Hermione went down. Dropping to her knees she started to fumble at the stranger's trousers. Reaching down, he laughed and pulled her back up to her feet. "Good Godric, girl! Later! There's still a bit to do here."

Molly was both shocked and outraged at Hermione's behavior. She _knew_ that her son should never have married that tramp! But that man's voice … there was something familiar about it ….

Then the stranger turned to her.

"So … Molly … how have you been?"

Looking into those piercing green eyes, Molly now knew whose leg her tramp of a daughter-in-law had been dry-humping. She would have gasped if she could have.

"Myself? I've been busy. I'm the one who's been giving the Aurors and Albus a hard time lately. Let's see … among other things, I tortured Ronniekins and had him eaten alive … killed Charlie (well, that was actually my lovely companion here) … turned Ginny into a Drone – that's basically a mindless fuck-doll if you're curious – and after dealing with you here … I'll be taking care of the rest of the Weasel family." Pausing, Harry tapped his chin. "Not Percy, though. Even though I never liked the prat, he never really did anything against me. Funny how things work out."

Bringing his face closer to Molly's, Harry smiled. "You should really thank me, you know. No, no … not for doing a favor for the Wizarding gene pool … but for overriding Hermione's wishes. She wanted to spend weeks with you in the dungeon and then spread little, bloody Molly-pieces all over England." Harry shuddered. "Damn, she really does _not_ like you. Instead, we'll start off with a little game. It involves what might be the center of the Weasley universe. The Burrow."

Turning away from Molly Weasley, Harry stood in a line with the females after ensuring that Molly had an unobstructed view of her home. "Would you like to go first, my Mione?"

Hermione nearly crushed Harry with her hug. "Thank you, my love," she whispered with a dreamy smile on her lips.

Her breathy whisper in his ear made Harry shiver for a moment. Covering up his surprise at the strength of his own reaction to her innocuous statement, he withdrew from the hug and made a show of bowing deeply. "Whenever you're ready."

The flare from the blasting hex almost blinded both Harry and Luna. A section near the top of the Burrow was completely vaporized.

Harry shook his head to clear the spots from his eyes. "Used enough magic there, Herms? You know that's not the way the game is played."

Harry thought her embarrassed blush to be incredibly cute.

"Sorry. Got carried away there. And please don't call me that." Sheepishly, Hermione handed the wand to Luna. "Your turn, Luna."

The three enjoyed alternatingly hurling blasting hexes at the Burrow, laughing whenever someone made an unusually good shot and made the building teeter but not fall. Finally, Luna seemed to clip a major load-bearing or ward-bearing wall and the entire structure collapsed.

"JENGA!" cried the blond, hopping about in joy.

Harry shook his head. "Luna, that's not how …." Harry looked at Luna's happy smile and found that he couldn't finish. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her on the lips. "Excellent job, Luna."

"Harry … if you don't get me back to the tower right now, I'm going to rape you where you stand!"

Harry laughed at Hermione's outburst. Turning back to Molly, he said, "I'm afraid there seems to be no arguing with her anymore. It seems that we have to cut this short." Raising his left arm, Harry growled. "_Dominor!"_

Seeing Harry stop the magic sooner than she had expected, Hermione examined Molly's open, glassy stare. "What? A drone! Why?"

"Probably the jubblies. They _are_ rather huge."

"Shush, Luna," came from Harry. Facing an incredulous Hermione, Harry quickly apologized. "I've always liked her cooking. I figured to station her in the kitchens."

Hermione crossed her arms and frowned. "Hrmph. I'm _still_ going to rape you. But I don't think you'll get near the enjoyment you would have gotten beforehand."

Harry simply shook his head. _Witches! There's no pleasing 'em._

xXxXx

Gawain rubbed at his throbbing temples. "Salazar's Slimy Scrotum … I can tell by the expressions on your face that I'm not going to like what I hear."

The two young Aurors who had drawn the short straw gulped. "I'm afraid there was no one there. The doors were unlocked and half-finished tea was on the table. There was evidence of dry sick on the carpet, but no signs of violence. It looks like no one had been there in quite awhile."

Gawain groaned.

"I'm afraid it gets worse, sir."

"Of course it does."

"We tried to floo Mrs. Molly Weasley at the family home to find out when she had last been in contact with them. There was no answer. Apparation and Port-key attempts also failed for reasons unknown. Apparating as close as possible, we approached the home on foot."

Gawain stared at the two Aurors. Their silence was making the throbbing in his temple worsen. "And?"

Gawain could have sworn that their movements made it look like one Auror had kicked the other in the shins.

"It … it was _gone_, sir."

"What! What do you mean, 'It was gone'?"

"The entire structure had been demolished. Judging from the scatter of the debris, there seemed to be multiple blast points. But there were no bodies in the ruble."

Gawain sighed, "A sliver of good news, at least. I'd better contact Arthur. If that's all –"

"Um … I'm afraid not, sir. Knowing that Mr. Arthur Weasley was safe here at the ministry, we thought it urgent to contact the rest of the family. No one seems to know where Mr. Bill Weasley lives, but we did have information on Mr. George Weasley. We then tried to contact him at his last known address – a flop-house in Knockturn Alley – and check on him in regards to the situation."

Gawain closed his eyes in resignation. "And?"

xXxXx

George Weasley opened his eyes. What in hell was going on? The last thing he remembered was Hermione coming to visit him. She was talking about Charlie and said something about it being time for him to go home. Or rejoin the family. Something like that.

Why did he fall asleep? Why did he awaken standing up? And why was he so bloody _hungry_?

"Here you go, George. Eat this … I'm sure you're starving. I know you have questions, but they can wait. I'm sure you'll _grok_ everything soon enough."

George's rumbling stomach demanded he listen to his sister-in-law. He opened his mouth as she spoon fed him some strange attempt at steak-and-kidney pie. It had ended up more of a thick, salty stew. Even though Hermione was quite accomplished at potions, George knew that her cooking had always been rubbish.

From her nearby seat, Luna cocked her head in confusion. She had tried to question Hermione earlier, but had no clearer understanding of what she was doing. The girl had been practically giddy ever since they had left the Burrow. There seemed to be no calming her down. Once Hermione had heard Harry's plans for George, she had decided to throw herself fully into the project. She seemed quite proud of herself in regards to her minor addition. Perhaps it was one of those inside-jokes people had told her about? Luna found that jokes were often confusing enough. Why would people want to complicate them further?

Hermione gave George a sip of water to help wash down the stew. She had no doubt that he would devour the whole bowl. That potion cocktail she had given him would have done a number on his system. The standard hangover remedy was bad enough, but her modifications to the potion had caused the vanishment of every food particle in his entire digestive tract as well as the alcohol from his bloodstream. Toss in the sleeping potion she mixed in to the "simple hangover remedy" she had given George and the minor compulsion she had cast on his unconscious body and … her portion of the joke was complete. She smiled brightly, certain that Harry appreciated her assistance.

Harry saw Luna raise her eyebrow at him after a quick glance at Hermione. He shrugged in return. He didn't get it, either.

"Thanks, Herms. That really hit the spot."

Hermione frowned. "_Don't _call me that. Now it's time for you to talk to Harry. I'm sure he'll have you all _grokked_ up in no time." She couldn't resist a slight chuckle as she turned. There was a bounce in her step as she returned to Harry's side while quietly singing "_I grok … you grok'a she groks … I grok …._"

Now that he could think clearer, George was even more confused. He seemed to be chained to the wall with his arms up over his head, but he couldn't turn his head to check. He could only look straight ahead and even that was partially obscured. _Am I wearing a domino mask? What on earth for? And what happened to my clothes?_ George's clothing felt unusually stiff on him. And there seemed to be a layer of caked mud or something under the clothes. _Was I dunked into a mud pit or something? That's rather juvenile._

George now noticed the man sitting in the center of a loveseat just a few meters in front of him. Hermione and … _Luna_, yes, Luna was her name … sat on either end. Behind them George could make out something tall and wide covered by a dark cloth. The rest of the room around them seemed to be some sort of dungeon made up of every cliché in the book. Standing, the man in the center of the seat approached him, a sad smile on his face.

"George, George, George … a drunkard … a bum … an embarrassment to the family; living off the sympathy and charity of others. Whatever happened to that young entrepreneur with a bright future?"

"Toss off!" George snarled. "I don't have to talk to you. Hermione! What's going on here?"

"_I'm_ going on here, George, so settle down."

There being almost no slack in whatever was restraining him, George couldn't even make a half-hearted lunge forward. That voice was familiar, though. _Who is this wanker?_ George stared at the fellow for a minute. The wanker just stood there and smiled at him. _Hermione mentioned his name … Harry?_

Something clicked in George's mind. Mentally, he subtracted eight years from the face before him and added a pair of glasses. _Sweet Merlin!_ George found himself having difficulty swallowing. "Harry? Mate? Is that you?" he whispered.

Harry laughed. "Ahh … and there it is! That sweet little glimmer of first recognition! It somehow sends a warm little shiver down my body every single time. Yes. Yes, it is me. How have you been, _mate_. As for me … I've been _dead_. But I got better."

Luckily for George, the stew had not yet had time to pass through his system. "Harry … it's, uh, great to see you!" George tried to force a smile for the dead man's benefit. "But … but what's going on here? Get me down from here … and … let's have a few drinks and get caught up on … everything."

Harry smiled, but shook his head while clucking his tongue. "Part of me would really like to, George. You and Fred were really a pair. I always liked you. Or was it Fred that I liked? I can't really remember."

George felt his anger return, replacing his fear. "That's not funny, Harry!"

"Not funny?" Harry shook his head once again. "What happened to you, George?"

"FRED DIED, YOU ASSHOLE!" roared George. "_That's_ what happened!"

"Death can change a person a lot. Trust me … I know. What about the joke shop?"

"It died … along with Fred. He's gone. The joke's over."

Harry sighed. "It's a real shame, George. I considered you a mate, and you let me down."

"I never did anything to you, Harry. I swear by my magic, I didn't."

"I know, I know. Dumbledore pulled the wand. But you were my mate, or so I believed. You didn't think it proper to tell me that someone _other_ than Voldemort was trying to kill me?"

George sighed, the spirit seeming to have gone out of him. "What would you have had me do, Harry? Dumbledore told us that it was better that you didn't know. For Merlin's sake, Hermione knew, too."

"Personally, I would have had you choose your friend over an ancient old man who keeps trying to give candy to children." Harry waited for a reaction but was disappointed. "Oh, come on. That was funny. And as far as Hermione is concerned, it's a lot easier to forgive her. Sorry, George, but your plumbing is different. And you ain't that cute." Glancing over his shoulder to Hermione, Harry gave her a wink. She merely rolled her eyes in return.

"Nothing's funny anymore. Go ahead and do whatever you have planned. I don't care anymore."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You disappoint me, George. What would Fred say?"

"He bloody well would say nothing. Because he's bloody well dead!"

"True. But no one knew him better than you. Your attitudes … your twinspeak … it was almost like you shared the same mind. No one could get inside each other the way you two could. You thought alike, you spoke alike, you looked alike. Merlin, if he were here right now, I wonder what he would think. But you'd know … wouldn't you?"

With that, Harry turned back towards Hermione and Luna. As he approached, the two women moved the loveseat out of the way. Reaching the object draped in cloth, Harry pulled it away to reveal the full length mirror.

George stared, not understanding what he was seeing. Had they tortured him while he had been unconscious? His naked body was covered by stitches. Sections of skin seemed to sag or stretch strangely on his frame. Sections of his flesh seemed to be peeling or flapping loosely. And most of his flesh seemed to be covered by dried blood.

"Heh."

Hermione raised an eyebrow from where she stood to the side. "I think he groks, now."

"He-heh."

"Hermione, what is it with this 'grok' stuff?" asked Harry.

"He-heh hah."

"Honestly, Harry. Michael Valentine Smith?"

"Who?"

"BWAH-HA!"

Hermione frowned at Harry's ignorance. She turned to the Ravenclaw only to see the same expression on her face. "Haven't either of you ever read the classics?"

"HA-HAH-HA! BWAH-HA-HA-HEH! Hee. HA-HA-HA-HAHAHAHAHA!"

"Well … at least _he_ seems to get it," Hermione harrumphed.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…."

"Well, _I've_ read the classics, Hermione. I loaned them to you when you first got here, remember?"

Harry just shrugged. "Alright, let's go. Horatio will come back with the camera. I'll have him kill George after he passes out." Placing one arm around each of his witches, Harry led them from the chamber, George's laughter still echoing in their ears.


	17. Time for a Break

***** It's all mine! Mine! And I'm making a fortune writing this! BWAH-HA-HA!**

_**Despite the restrictions created by the straight-jacket he is locked within, the author rushes to the side of his cell and starts slamming his head against the padded wall.**_

***** Okay. Perhaps just a "tad" bit too obscure last episode. Not a Frankenstein's monster, just a stitched together "skin-suit." The S&K pie from Hermy was made with what was left over (from Fred). Grok … _Stranger in a Strange Land_ by RAH … untranslatable martian term for something close to complete/total understanding of something or someone (usually through 'consumption'). Does anyone else still have an "I Grok Spock" T-shirt? And, of course, Cyndi Lauper's "She Bop."**

***** Not much action till the cliffie (heh-heh). Dealt with unbeatable Super Harry, the Honorable Warrior Goblins, and a few others. Onwards to playing with Potter Manor.**

**Chapter 17**

**Time for a Break**

Hermione awoke with a start. "Harry? Harry!"

"Calm down, Hermione. He woke up a few hours ago. He was in the throne room talking to Gnarl when I left him." Luna was brushing out her hair at a small table near the bed. "Sorry if I woke you. I don't believe you got too much sleep last night. Harry and I decided to let you rest."

Slowing her breathing, Hermione forced herself to relax. She glanced sadly at the large, comfortable bed she lay upon. It just felt so empty without Harry in it. "I was keeping an eye on Harry all night," she admitted. "After Hagrid, I was afraid that he might take George's death pretty hard."

"Nope. Nary a problem. I think he was probably more disturbed by you having Mrs. Weasley standing at the foot of the bed and having her watch us all have sex."

Hermione had the decency to blush. "Yes … well …."

"Don't worry about it. I don't think he really cared; I think he was just rather surprised. But it seemed important to you, so … no problem." Luna put up her brush and started opening drawers. "Why don't you head on down? He said he had a surprise for us today. I'll be right down after I find my flavored lip gloss. I was thinking of trying it on my nipples."

"Oh! That sounds interesting. What flavors does it come in?"

xXxXx

Hermione entered the throne room alongside Luna to see Harry in deep conversation with Gnarl. Rather than acting as armrests, his new toys sat in his lap, one on either leg, pressed tightly to his sides with his arms casually encircling their waists. Hermione had to smile at the sight; it reminded her of some smugly satisfied child simply holding on to two giant teddy bears.

Looking up, Harry smiled at the two. "Ladies … I'm glad you're here. We're just about done here. I'm simply giving Gnarl some general instructions before our departure."

"Departure?" asked Hermione.

"Where are we going, Harry?" came from Luna.

"Let's face it, we've done a lot recently. We've still got a lot to do, yet, but I think that we deserve a brief vacation while setting up the next stage of my plans. The Aurors should be in an uproar, and it should be pretty obvious that the Weasleys are major targets. I think it might be best to let them stew for a bit … give a chance for paranoia to eat away at them. Besides, I think it only fair that Arthur – as Head of the Family – be last, and I have no idea where to find Bill. It might not be a good idea to get the Goblins involved in my inquiries."

Hermione shook her head. "Oh, Harry." Turning to Luna, she asked, "Do you still have that quill and some blank parchment?"

Luna nodded, "Of course," as she removed the items from her robes and handed them to Hermione.

Hermione approached the throne and gestured at one of the Patils. "Harry, would you mind if I …?"

"Go ahead."

Reaching out, Hermione took hold of one of the girls by the shoulder. Guiding her forward, she had the slave bend over and swivel to the side, stretching across Harry's lap and providing a feminine surface to write on.

"Just a sec." Harry leaned to the side of the throne and reached down. After grabbing a thin rectangle of wood, he placed it upon his new left armrest's back.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry. He shrugged in return. "I figured they should function as a multi-purpose entertainment center. Isn't that right girls?"

"Yes, master," the sisters softly replied in unison.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione placed parchment to wood. After scribbling down a few lines, she turned the paper around to face Harry.

"_Bill Weasley and his wife Fleur (a Veela who practically oozes sex from every pore)"_ here Hermione had inserted a small, winking smiley-face for Harry's benefit _"live at Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth, Cornwall."_

"It's a new Fidelius, but they had no reason to update the wards … there wasn't much room for improvement. Both of us are probably still keyed in, though. Why remove a kidnap victim or a dead man?"

Harry glanced down at the Fleur comment again. "Thank you, _Luna_. I'll put this aside for later. They'll probably feel safe remaining there."

"Honestly, Harry. I don't understand why you didn't just think of asking me to begin with."

Harry went silent for a moment, his grin vanishing. When he finally spoke, his voice was as expressionless as his face. "Forgive me for making a concerted effort to _not_ associate you with the Weasley family as much as possible."

Hermione's hand flew to her open mouth as her eyes opened wide. "Oh, Harry! I'm sorry! I didn't even think …." Tears threatened to fall as she reached a hand towards Harry's cheek. "Please forgive me, master."

Harry placed his own hand over hers where it cupped his cheek. He smiled sadly. "It's okay, Mione. I guess we're both still a bit thin-skinned in certain areas." With a slight chuckle, Harry tried to lighten the mood. "By the way … no self-punishment. If you feel some need to make it up to me, you can _discuss_ it with me in bed tonight in our new home."

"New home?"

Harry chuckled much more freely this time. "Yepper. We need a base of operations in England. I had the Goblins make a few purchases for me. Sirius' old place, I have special plans for … minor, but I think it'll add a certain flair to my designs. The second place is for us while we're in England. I must warn you … I instructed the Goblins to get me something ostentatious. It's partially for my dealings with the Malfoys and other potential business partners."

At Luna and Hermione's confused looks, Harry merely smiled. "I'll explain that portion of my plan later. For right now, I'd just thought we'd check the place out. Maybe do a little shopping. I'm sure Luna has at least a few muggle shops she'd like to revisit, and you, Hermione, need to get your own stuff so you don't have to borrow Luna's all the time."

Hermione smiled in gratitude. Part of her mind was trying to come up with something special for tonight. Not only did she have to make up for her _faux pas _but also to reward Harry for using the word 'ostentatious.'

"So when do we leave?" asked Luna.

"Anytime. The Goblins left word that they had finished the Fidelius and the other wards. They were claiming that the size and history of the place required a great deal of magic to be put in place for the wards and notice-me-nots to hold. I think they were just saying that to rationalize asking for another ton of gold to be added to the price.

"Grubby's been working all morning. He and his team have set up gate locations in the Master's study, the Master Bedroom, a hidden one in the gardens out back, and one just outside the entrance. That's the one we'll be going through now. Truthfully, this place was my second choice, but the Goblins kept insisting that they'd only get me my first pick if I paid them completely in bars of Duranium. They wouldn't do it for gold, and I didn't want to give them that much Duranium at once."

"So, don't keep us in suspense, Harry," wheedled Hermione. "Let's see the place!"

With a small laugh, Harry moved the Patils out of his way and strode over to the gate. _I think they'll like it. At least I hope they will!_ With a beckoning gesture, Harry said, "Hold your breath. Make a Wish. Count to three. Come with me and you'll be …." With that he stepped into the gate.

Hermione turned to Luna. "He bought a chocolate factory?"

Luna shrugged. She had no clue, herself, as to what Harry might have purchased. Then she thought about Hermione's strange deduction. "Oooh! Chocolate!" Eagerly, she hopped into the gate.

With a shrug of her own, Hermione followed.

xXxXx

Harry stood on the gravel before the front of his purchase. With a grand wave, he asked, "So … do you like? I hope so. As I said, it was my second pick."

There was dead silence behind him. Harry began to get nervous. "Hermione? Luna?"

Turning around, Harry looked at two apparently shell-shocked women. "You _don't_ like it?"

Hermione managed to make a sound first. "Buh … buh … buh …."

Luna simply stared.

"Buh … buh … Waugh's … buh …."

Harry's nervousness grew. "Are … are you two okay?"

"Buh … Brideshead … Waugh …."

_Okay … Hermione's completely gone._ Moving to stand before Luna, Harry gently took hold of her shoulders. "Luna. What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I think a blibbering humdinger just crawled up my vagina," she whispered.

Harry shook his head in confusion. "What?" _And is that good or bad?_

Returning his attention to Hermione, Harry saw that she had managed to raise a trembling arm to point at the manor. "Brideshead … Brideshead …" she continued to repeat.

"Um, okay … I've had that. Lord's Right of First Night and all that. Nothing special, though. Oral sex hinges on the woman and not the situation, I've come to find. Of course, bridal outfits _do_ add a certain kink factor."

"You … you bought _Brideshead_!"

"No! I told you. Lord's Right … I never had to pay." Harry found himself slightly offended at the accusation.

Hermione just kept jabbing her pointing finger towards the building. "You bought _freaking BRIDESHEAD_!" she nearly shrieked.

_Actually, come to think of it, I think there was something like that in the notes._ Shaking his head, Harry pulled several papers out of his robe. "Hmm … Castle Howard … North Yorkshire … Earl of Carlisle … designed by Vanbrugh … over 7,000 acres – _jeez,_ that sounds like a lot! – um, hey! Here it is! Used in films based on the book _Brideshead Revisited_. Merlin, Hermione! Is that what's freaking you out? It's related to something in a book?"

Harry was shocked to hear an animalistic growl. He had just managed to raise his head when slightly over 9 stone of female flesh slammed into him and knocked him to the ground while sending the papers flying. Hermione continued to growl as she clawed at his robes like some rabid animal.

"Help! Luna! Mione's gone mad!"

Harry had the breath knocked out of him again as the blond slammed into the pile. When she started straining to rip the belt from his trousers, he realized that he was not the one she was helping.

xXxXx

"There's gravel stuck up my bum." Luna's voice came from somewhere around his right thigh.

Harry felt around for an ankle and managed to move someone's calf from his face. "Ow," he croaked.

"That … that hurt." Harry couldn't even begin to guess where Hermione's voice was coming from.

"That was officially the most _uncomfortable_ sexual encounter I've ever had. Godric's Gonads, girls! May I ask what the hell all that was about?"

"Your fault," mumbled Hermione. "You bloody bought bloody _Brideshead_!"

"Hermione … language!" chuckled Harry. Twisting at the waist, he began to look for a way to extricate himself from the tangle of limbs.

Harry could hear Luna sigh. That was followed by a spitting sound and the scattering of more gravel. "Harry." Her tone was that of a parent disappointed at their own child's stupidity. "You do not go up to any woman and say 'Oh, by the way, we're going to be living in Castle Howard. Do you like?' and expect _not_ to be raped. Well, I guess it's actually Castle Harry, now," she giggled.

"She's right, Harry. I'd probably even rape Goyle. Well … maybe not _Goyle_."

"Really?" asked an amazed Luna.

"Okay … I would," admitted Hermione. "But I'd feel really dirty afterwards!"

"… Agreed," Luna concurred.

Harry simply shook his head in bewilderment. "Unbelievable. I'm glad I haven't shown you two a few of my villas back home, then! A couple of them make this place look like Number Four Privet Drive."

"What! Then why do you live in that tower?" demanded Hermione.

"Hey! What's wrong with my Tower? I _like_ my Tower! It's where I got started and it's where the Tower Heart is located. That and I don't like having to walk for twenty minutes just to get to the damn loo!"

"Alright – ouch! Hey! Are those my socks or yours, Luna? Harry … I'm curious. You said that this place was your _second_ choice. Dare I ask – no, that's _my_ brassiere. Damnit. _Reparo! Reparo! _ – what was your first?"

"Oh. Someplace called the Sandringham Estate in Norfolk." Harry frowned as all motion around him came to a complete halt. He actually thought he heard an 'eep' from his right thigh. "Oh, Merlin … what is it now?" he groaned.

"Harry … don't you know what Sandringham is?"

"Yes. A very nice place going by the pictures the Goblins showed me. Listen … I'm getting tired of this treatment. Me. Eleven years in a cupboard. Followed by years of being hunted by a Dark Lord with annual breaks for Dursley Prison. Then eight of being _dead_ as far as England is concerned! Hello!"

Luna's voice sounded a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry, Harry. I guess we never looked at it that way."

"She's right," agreed Hermione similarly rebuffed. "It's just … well, Sandringham is the country estate of Her Majesty the Queen."

The silence was finally broken by gales of laughter.

"Harry?" asked both women.

When he could finally manage a breath, Harry had to admit, "If I had known that … I would have given the Goblins the 200 bars of Duranium they wanted!"

xXxXx

Harry sighed as he sat down at his desk in the Master's Private Study. He had joined the women to see the high points of the main manor, but he had quickly tired of dodging their advances. _C'mon … really? Can even a bloody closet be worth a shag?_ _Okay, so it _was _half the size of a regulation Quidditch Pitch, but it's still just a bloody closet! _Leaving them a copy of the floor plans, Harry had escaped and left them to their own devices.

_Alright, let's see …._ Pulling out a large copy of the plans for the main manor from the desk, he spread them out before him. From the same drawer, he pulled out a mechanical pencil. _You gotta love the muggles!_ _Okay, the wing to the right of the entrance gets shielded from magic. I wonder how much gold the Goblins will want for that? I don't care … that Colecovision Dudley had looked neat. I want one!_

_Hmm. That would make for a good potions lab. Over there an armory … living spaces for the minions. Of course, they'll need to stay out of sight whenever company comes over. _Paging through the stack of plans, Harry made a large circle around part of the grounds. _I wonder if the Goblins can arrange to stock that with dangerous animals? Kelda would love that!_

Humming a light tune, Harry continued planning out his modifications to Castle Harry. Eventually, he frowned and started rifling through the pages of plans again and again. "Oh, come on! How can you call something a castle and _not_ have a dungeon! I've been robbed!"

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," Harry called out.

Luna and Hermione came in looking flushed. Harry grinned at them. "Finished with the tour already?"

"Are you kidding? Throw in the grounds and I'm sure we'll be exploring for weeks! No, we just decided to take a break. It's been about four hours. We figured it was a good time to see about a trip to Diagon to begin filling up some of those closets."

"Four hours! Damn, time flies when you're designing a dungeon. I've got some work to finish up here. Why don't you two go have some fun?" Harry tapped the pencil against the desk top for a moment then frowned. "Luna's been popping in and out and should be safe as long as no one's seen her collecting girls. You'll be needing a glamour, though, Hermione."

"Oh! I've got an idea," bubbled Luna. With a slight flick of her wand, she changed the style and color of Hermione's hair.

"GAAAAHHHHH! No! Nien! Nyet! Nada! Ningun! Never! Nu-huh! Kill it! Kill it!"

With a quick flick of her wand, Luna dispelled the glamour.

"Luna. Make her old, make her wrinkled, make her ugly. I don't care. But NEVER do that again!"

Hermione looked between the two in confusion. "What was it? What was wrong? I didn't even get a chance to look at it!"

"I don't know," pouted Luna. "It's called a 'pixie-cut.' I thought it was cute."

Harry merely stared daggers at the blond. "No. That … that was just _wrong_!"

Luna harrumphed. "Fine. I'll make her ugly. But I'm certain that no one would have recognized her with that hair."

Harry simply shivered at the memory. He'd have to remember to Obliviate himself later. The mental image was just too much for him. He could easily see Hermione on all fours in front of him. As he's thrusting away behind her, she looks over her shoulder at him and he suddenly wonders if he's shagging a girl in the bum or one of those androgynous "pretty boys" that Draco always tried to emulate. With effort, Harry swallowed the bile threatening to rise in the back of his throat. "Just come up with something _else_ and grab a trunk of gold from Gringots. You're on the account, Luna. Whatever you want … the Drones will always mine more."

The Overlord's two favorite witches got up to leave. Smiling, Harry returned to his plans for his castle. Once again glancing at the layout, he snorted. He considered Castle Howard a manor house. A large one, definitely, but still just a manor. In his mind, a castle wasn't a castle if it didn't have a true moat, dungeons, or – at the very least – fortified walls with which to keep out enemies. And have fun pouring boiling oil over the side.

Thoughts of Hermione drifted through his head. She would probably enjoy this trip out. Since leaving the tower, she had only returned to this world twice: the first time to a country foreign to her and in the midst of a battle, and the second with Luna on carefully laid out missions.

Strange feelings began to well up in Harry's mind. Refusing to acknowledge them as being either fear or dread, he chalked them up to being some vague, unidentifiable concern. Rising from his chair, he quickly exited the study and rushed to locate Hermione and Luna before they departed.

"Hold on, you two!" Harry called out as he approached them. As they turned to face him with questioning looks, Harry had the grace to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, but I forgot a few things. I'm sorry, Hermione, but Luna will be going out alone for now. I'm going to need your help here for a bit."

There was a brief look of disappointment on Hermione's face, but she quickly shrugged it off. Harry came before any shopping trip. "Certainly, Harry." Turning to Luna, she asked, "Do you remember my sizes? If so, could you pick up some clothes for me?"

Luna shot a strange look between the two, but ended up smiling. "Of course, Hermione. Don't worry about it. I'll be fine on my own. Have fun you two, and don't do anything that I wouldn't do at least twice." Twirling about, Luna resumed her walk to the floo.

Walking over to Harry, Hermione wrapped her arm around his and smiled at him. "So what can I help you with?"

Harry guided her over to one of the divans lining the hall and pulled her down to sit with him. "Um … first, I'd like to thank you for your help with Fred's body. That spell you came up with to reverse the … defecation?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, Harry," she sighed. "Desiccation. There were several issues and spells involved, but it's not too hard to make an intact corpse return to a state resembling that near the time of its death."

Harry grinned on the inside. _I love doing that. It's just so cute when she rolls her eyes … or sighs … or chews on her lip … or wraps her lips around my –. _Harry shook his head, driving away the image. There would be time for that later! "Well, I just wanted to thank you, anyway. He would have been impossible to skin otherwise. I was wondering, though … can something like that be done with Inferi?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow in surprise. She then chewed on her lower lip for a moment (much to the Overlord's delight), before replying. "I don't see why not. I don't understand why you would want to, though. The magic of their creation is responsible for their strength and mobility. Revitalizing the tissues wouldn't really do anything extra for them."

"I'm not looking to improve them. All the ones I've seen looked … well, bland or generic. Humanoid, but not human. I'd like to make them resemble the people they once were. Not entirely, though; I want them to be recognizable but obvious that they are dead. You know, something more along the lines of the muggle image of a zombie."

"Well, the creation spell itself might need to be modified. I won't know until I break it down arithmantically. But I'm sure something can be done along those lines. Why? Did Luna change your mind about necrophilia?" she asked with an evil smile before laughing.

Harry snorted himself. "Hardly! I just think the expression on people's faces at the sight of their dead loved ones trying to kill them would be worth the effort. Even if we don't create them till later, I'd like you to join me in getting the bodies we'll be using."

"Now?"

"Well … Luna's going to be shopping for awhile. And the idea of her in a cemetery with a shovel just _really_ scares the hell out of me."

Hermione thought about that only for an instant before nodding. "I see your point."

"And on another topic … have you gotten any further on that Imperious-Domination hybrid spell?"

"It's close to being finished. It will probably need another few days of work before it's ready for testing."

"Good," acknowledged Harry. "I'd like to have that finished before going after Bill." At Hermione's inquiring look, Harry explained, "I'm sure that we'll be running into a certain 'Veela who oozes sex from every pore' at the same time."

Hermione grinned. "I was wondering what you were waiting for."

"Well, I don't really want her to be another Drone … though I'd settle with that if necessary. But I'd be nervous about trying to break her and keeping her as just another slave. I don't know much about Veelas, but I've heard stories about them being able to throw fire or turn into birds even. And all without a wand."

Hermione nodded her understanding. "You're right. We have pretty much only heard rumours about their abilities. They're not really covered in any texts I've heard of in England. I'm sure that they would _probably_ cover the topic at Beauxbatons, but I am _quite _sure that none of us like the idea of you getting your bits fried."

Harry winced. "Exactly! Better to wait than to risk any of the rumours being true." Standing up, Harry gave a short bow and extended his hand to Hermione. "So, milady, are you up for joining me in desiccating a few graves?" _Wait for it! Wait for it!_

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The word is 'desecrating,' Harry. Honestly!"

_Merlin, I love that._

xXxXx

Lying on her side, Hermione smiled down at the sleeping form of the center of her universe. One finger idly played with an unruly lock of black hair as he slept pressed up against her. Watching him sleep, she was unaware that she was humming some nameless, half-remembered lullaby as she reveled in his presence and the warmth of his body.

He had known who she was. She had no idea how, but he had. She couldn't determine the exact moment, but his actions that night had shown her that – on some level – he had not been fooled. Hermione had been surprised by the number of polyjuice potions Luna had in her personal potions kit. When asked, Luna had begun talking about her Da and locks of her mother's hair; Hermione had quickly changed the subject after that.

Three sets of silent twins had joined Harry in bed that night. The Patils, Luna, Hermione, and two slaves in the forms of both Luna and Hermione. For an hour, there had been an orgy of epic proportions. Both Hermione and Luna had drunk from flasks filled with tap water a few times to maintain the illusion and continue Harry's reward.

_But you could tell which was the real me, couldn't you? Your attentions … the touch of you hands … the way you moved with – and within – me versus the way you did with her._

Hermione kissed Harry's forehead in the manner that only a true lover or mother could. A kiss which was not flesh meeting flesh, but a transfer of pure emotion. Love given physical manifestation.

Harry tightened his hold on the real Hermione. A frown creased his forehead. "Don't go," he murmured.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered back to the sleeping young man.

Harry seemed to become agitated and started shifting about as his hold on Hermione tightened further. "Don't leave me, Mione." His voice increased in volume even though he remained asleep.

Luna blinked sleep from her eyes having been awoken by Harry's sudden movements. "Hrmm?"

"Shhhh, shh-shh-shh-shhhh. I'm not about to leave you, my love."

"Stay with me. I love you. Don't run."

Hermione was about to respond when a sharp movement from Luna cut her off. While a pointing finger hovered centimeters from Hermione's mouth, Luna's free hand went to the table beside the bed to grasp her wand. Seconds later, a localized silence spell was centered on Harry's head. Keeping her own movements to a minimum, she announced in a firm voice, "Hannah, Tracey … leave! No sudden movements. Don't awaken him."

As the two slaves – once again in their true forms – slipped out of the bed, Hermione battled with several emotions, her attention moving from Harry to Luna then back again. Confusion emerged as the victor. "Luna?"

"No. Just … no."

"He … he said …."

"That he loves you. Yes. Big surprise. Huge! Global, even!" Luna shook her head in disgust. "I swear … whoever stuck you with the title 'Brightest Witch of the Age' needs to have their head examined. He loves you. I know that. You know that … though it took you forever and a day. Rowena's paps, Hermione … anyone who has ever known the two of you _knows_ that!"

"Then … then –"

"No. He _knows_ that, yes. But he has yet to acknowledge it to himself. Don't go jumping the broom yet. You know as well as I do that if you suddenly hit Harry with this, you'll only scare him. Never use what a man says in his sleep against him. Be aware of it, yes. But to use it would be unfair."

"Unfair? But—"

"Would you ever use the Legilimency Charm on him? Pry loose his deepest secrets when he can't defend himself?"

"Of course not!"

"Same thing."

"Then what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?"

Luna rolled her eyes. McGonagall. It had probably been McGonagall. 'Most-Learned,' maybe. 'Brightest'? Definitely not. "You say nothing. Then you give him time. He'll work it out eventually."

Hermione glared at the blond for a moment but eventually gave her a sharp nod. "Cancel the spell."

Luna raised an eyebrow but did as Hermione had requested.

"Mione …."

"Shush, Harry. Get some sleep. Everything's fine. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere," Hermione whispered. Slowly, so as not to awaken him, Hermione forced her leg underneath Harry and pulled him atop her. He seemed to relax as he snuggled closer. Gently but firmly, she wrapped her legs and arms around him. Harry sighed as she started a slow rocking motion. He settled back into a peaceful sleep with a soft lullaby in his ears.

xXxXx

Hermione and Luna returned to the Tower the following morning. They weren't intending to stay long; merely long enough to have the minions carry through the gate anything that they wanted to have with them in England.

Even though she hadn't gotten much sleep, Hermione felt completely refreshed. She had worn a tiny 'Mona Lisa' smile on her face the entire morning. She wasn't even bothered by the fact that of the twenty bags of clothing Luna had brought back for her, only one contained clothing she would actually wear. Unless Harry wanted to see her in one of the other 'outfits' Luna had purchased for her, of course.

_What in Morgana's name is 'pleather,' anyway?_

The Overlord's mistresses were taking a quick tour of Castle Harry this morning, so only Hermione, Luna, and the ever present minions were currently in the Tower. Hermione reached into Luna's wardrobe and withdrew the last of her garments.

Looking down at the clothing bundled in her arms; Hermione realized that it was the clothing she had been wearing when she had first been brought to the Tower … in a way, the last remnants of her old life.

Her smile grew larger as she walked over to the fireplace and threw the bundle into the flames.

As the woman she had been slowly turned to ash before her eyes, Hermione frowned. She loved Harry and Harry loved her. But Harry deserved more than she could give him at the moment.

Harry deserved _all_ of her. She would hold nothing back from him. In her mind, she was completely his: her mind, her body, and her soul.

Her decision made, she sat on the floor while she stared into the flames. Centering herself, she focused her concentration.

Appearing in her Library, Hermione picked up the last un-shelved book. A wedding photo album.

xXxXx

"Okay, just leave that one in the Grand Hall. I'll see to its proper placement on the other side. As for that one –" Luna's instructions to the minions surrounding the gate were cut off as a horrendous scream reverberated throughout the Tower. Luna took off at a dead run.

In one of the grimoires on necromancy, there had been mention made of the scream of a tortured soul. Until now, she had thought the author was indulging in poetic license. Luna now realized that there _was_ such a thing and that – when heard – it could never be mistaken for anything else.

Dashing out of the stairwell, Luna pushed her way through minions to reach the doors to her private chambers. Wailing sobs could plainly be heard coming from the other side. "Move aside! MOVE!"

Luna burst through the doors and stared in shock. Hermione was kneeling on the floor and clawing at herself. Tears ran freely down a face etched with pain and disgust as she shook worse than anyone under the influence of the Cruciatus Curse. Her clothing was ripped and she seemed to be scrubbing at her exposed flesh hard enough to make one think she was trying to reach her very bones.

"How could – how could – I never – with HIM – Oh, God – dirt – filth – forgive – please – HOW –"

Luna waved the minions at her back away. "Leave us." As they followed her instructions, Luna slowly approached the babbling woman. "Hermione?"

"I touched him – he touched me – Oh God – Oh God – I FUCKED HIM! How could – how could I – OH GOD!" Hermione screamed at no one as she continued to claw at her own skin.

"It's okay, Hermione. It's going to be okay," Luna lied as she cautiously continued to approach. Crouching, she slowly moved towards the shaking wreck. Moving around to place a hand on Hermione's shoulder, Luna kept her body at an angle.

Reaching behind her, Luna slowly pulled a small dagger from a hidden sheath.

_I'm sorry, Hermione. Your death will shatter him, but he'll recover. Seeing you like this, though, would destroy him. Forgive me, Harry._ Luna made soothing noises as she secured her grip on the hilt of the blade.

***** Steeples his fingers and taps them together in a rhythmic fashion. "Why? Because it's eeevil and completely unnecessary." Evil chuckles follow.**


	18. And Let the Blood Flow

**Chapter 18**

**And Let the Blood Flow**

***** Apologies are due to … someone … for my use of a term a couple of chapters back. After recently reading a story which used the term "Crimson Vixens," I did a check on the lexicon and wiki. It looks like the "Flying Foxes" appear nowhere in the books and is the result of fannon. I'd seen it so many times that I thought I was (cough) borrowing (cough) from JK. My oopsie. If I stole it from you, I apologize. Angelina, Katie, and Alicia did deserve a nickname and yours was a good one. The nickname belongs to you as everything else HP belongs to JKR. I make no profit from the "Flying Foxes," either. At least until I start pimping them out.**

"Please remember that this is _not_ just a completely different world. It's a different world made up of _two_ different worlds; one of which is unaware of the other. Even though I'm all for sowing chaos and confusion, there are things I need to do yet. Feel free to explore the manor and grounds, but don't enter the wizarding or muggle worlds unless you are in the company of …." Harry trailed off in mid-warning. Raising a hand slightly, he looked upwards and held his head at an angle.

"Doth some sliver of light disturb the shadows of my master's ebon soul, Dark Lord?"

Rolling her eyes, Juno muttered, "_Elven_ Queen? More like _Drama_ Queen!"

Kelda paid no attention to the speech or the other mistressess. She was closely examining the tiny creature she held cupped in her hand watching it nibble on some form of nut. _The rats here are so cute with their long, fluffy tails. They just make you want to reach out and club them!_

"Something … something's wrong." Harry frowned. He couldn't understand it. He had no idea why he felt that way; it was just something deep in his gut that was drawing his attention back to the Tower. "All of you stay here. Relax. Enjoy the gardens. I'll be back in a bit."

Saying nothing more, the Overlord strode off in the direction of the Garden Gate, his pace quickening as he progressed.

"'Enjoy the gardens'? With no litter? What, does he expect me to walk like some sort of plebeian?" Juno shrugged in annoyance with the shrug carefully designed to make the eyes of heterosexual males and lesbian females boggle.

As usual, she was ignored by both Kelda and Fay.

xXxXx

"Hermione Weasley!" The snap and pop of emerald flames were his only response. Frustrated, he tried yet again. "HERMIONE J. WEASLEY!"

_Not good. This is definitely not good. I've always given you plenty of space because of that prat, but you've never taken this long._

Standing up and backing away from the floo, the man ran his fingers through his unruly black hair. Removing his glasses, he nervously cleaned them with a handkerchief while he gazed at the flames which matched his eyes. _You'd better be okay, luv. If it's finally gone too far, I'm not going to let you stop me again._

xXxXx

"No! Jensen, just no! Whatever it is, I don't care right now. I've got to give the minister and Dumbledore a status report in less than twenty minutes!" Gawain glared at his friend who had apparently made a habit of just walking into his office whenever he felt like it.

"Well, that shouldn't take too long. Just walk in there, say 'Squat!' turn around and leave."

Gawain growled and continued to glare. After a moment, he sighed in resignation. "That's why you'll never hit the political levels –"

"Thank Merlin!" Jensen smiled while interrupting.

"You're too honest." With another sigh, Gawain straightened the papers he'd be taking to the meeting with him. He was well aware that 'Squat' might as well have been printed on the bottom of each page. "So what do you have to feed my ulcer with now?"

Jensen quietly handed over an Auror's report.

Gawain glanced at the case coding in the corner. "Grave robbing? Kids on a tasteless lark? Assign a junior to it and keep everyone else -"

"Look at the names."

The Head of the DMLE did so … and went pale. He recognized each and every one. The names were all well known Heroes of the War. There were even a few Death Eaters on the list! Reaching the end of the list, he began to feel faint. "Even the Potter Plot?"

"I'm afraid so. The parents are gone and even all the earth around the Harry Potter monument was dug up. Stuck to the statue, Our Friend left a little note for His Friend." Jensen handed over the note.

_Come on Albus! Where did you stash the poor kid's body? Everyone knows you were involved, Old Man. Cough it up, or I'll burn all your socks._

_Tons of Smoochies, the Overlord._

Gawain sat down hard in his chair and stared at the paper in his hands. When he finally looked up, Head Auror Jensen was afraid that his friend had finally lost it.

Gawain wore a feral smile on his face.

"This could be the break we've been looking for."

"A break? What do you mean?"

"We finally have a suspect!"

"You've lost me, Gawain."

"The socks must be an inside joke of some sort. Everything seems to be revolving around Albus Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix. The killer knows them and Potter. I'm guessing it was someone present at the Battle of Hogwarts."

Jensen slowly nodded. "The assumptions are plausible."

"Now add to that someone who's recently dropped out of sight and a multitude of notes in his file refer to him having a strange sense of humour. And psychological issues since The War."

"You're not thinking … George Weasley? But what about his brother, his mother, and his family home?"

"What? You don't think a nutter wouldn't go against his own family? We've seen it more than we'd like to admit. And we don't know that the mother is dead."

"It doesn't quite _feel_ right … but it does seem to fit."

"I admit that it's a theory made up of string and wire, but it's a direction to look in that is a lot better than 'Squat!'"

xXxXx

"He – he killed – inside – I let – FUCKED – I – murderer INSIDE ME!"

Tears fell from Luna's eyes on Harry's behalf. _I'm sorry, master. I know you won't forgive me, but I have to do it. For you._ Pulling Hermione into a hug, Luna moved her knife into position.

"Love him – I love him – dirty – filthy – betray – AGAIN!" Hermione didn't even register the hold she was held in by the blond.

Luna's hand froze. Something was not quite right. "Urm … Hermione?"

Hermione's choked sobs remained, but she was no longer shouting as Luna began to slowly rock her back and forth.

"Sorry – I'm sorry – betrayed – married – deserve – hate me – love you – sorry Harry – so sorry."

Luna closed her eyes and grimaced. _Sweet Merlin and Morgana! Not again! What the hell is wrong with you two!_ Glancing over Hermione's shoulder, Luna swept her arm out and softly tossed her blade aside and managed to get it to slide under her bed. Pulling back her arm, she tightened her hold on the sobbing girl. "Shush, Hermione. Harry doesn't hate you. You know how he feels."

"I'm dirty … I'm filth!"

_Well … anyone who'd let Ronald between their legs …._ Luna shook that thought from her head. Hermione didn't need the truth right now. "Everything will be okay. He knows that you married Ron, but he loves you anyway. Deep down, you _know_ that!"

"How … how can I face him again?"

"You will get through this. Just stay here. Let me get a calming drought and we'll put you into a hot bath. Then we'll get you in bed with a sleeping draught. We'll figure this out, don't worry."

"I don't know how. I just don't know. I'm sorry, Harry."

_Hookay. This one promises to be fun. Time to put your Ravenclaw mind to work, girl._ Releasing Hermione, Luna moved to the door. Potions would help for a bit, but she knew that some kind of long term solution would be needed. Exiting her chambers, Luna looked up to see the very last person she wanted to see at the moment striding quickly and determinedly to her door. "Oh! Hi, Harry!"

Harry paused to stand before Luna. He was unnerved by the strange rictus smile which Luna seemed to suddenly plaster upon her face. "Is everything all right?" Trying to look over her shoulder and into the room, he called out, "Hermione! Are you in there? Are you o—"

"DON'T LOOK AT ME! I'M DISGUSTING!" Loud wailing sobs followed.

Luna quickly shut the door. "Not a good time, master."

"What? What the hell …?"

"Um … um … female issues! Yes, female issues!"

The Overlord frowned at the tiny woman before him then glanced nervously at the closed door. "Luna … I have several mistresses. I don't think –"

"Well … um … unusual story, really. Remember she kind of lost her mind for a bit? Had to reorganize her mental Library?"

"Yes …. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well … um … this is kind of an unforeseen side-effect. It's … it's like she's experiencing it again for the _very first_ time!"

"What?"

"Oh, yes. The first time is always bad. B-A-D bad!"

"Oh. OH!" Harry seemed to blush and shuffled from one foot to the next. "Well … tell her I hope she feels better soon. Um … about how soon do you think –"

"A few days, at least. Could be longer. It's always hard to tell the first time."

"Um … okay. I'd like to stay, but I … I'm afraid that there's a few things that require my attention. In the other universe."

"Don't let us keep you. She'll understand. It'll be fine."

"Alright. Give her my … erm, tell her I hope she feels better. I should probably be going now."

"No problem, Harry. We'll see you soonest."

Harry looked as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he spun around and quickly headed back to the gate.

Luna sighed and slumped against the door. _Thank the Creator. Thank you for making all males have the same primal fears._ Straightening herself, Luna glanced at the door behind her and sighed. _But now I have a deadline. Shite!_

***** Yes … extremely short this time, but I couldn't leave everyone in suspense.**

***** The first Electronic Golden Twinkie Award is hereby given to 'tenchifew' for seeing where I was going right off the bat (maybe you should seek help). C'mon people! I'm a romantic who believes in Harmony. Really! A little twisted, maybe ….**


	19. Time Heals All Wounds

**Chapter 19**

**Time Heals All Wounds**

***** Even after a year and a half of working on the equations for sub quantum dimensional realignment, I still don't own Harry Potter and the rest. The hard part seems to be excluding the last two books ….**

***** A quick recap in the hopes that those who have waited the longest can have their memories jogged and not have to reread ****everything****:**

_First, take a clichéd "Dumbles intends to sacrifice Harry Potter on the altar of the Greater Good" story and have Dobby merely wounded until after the Battle of Hogwarts. Thus far, Luna Lovegood (who is less sane and has a slightly darker past than actually saw print) is the only person who wasn't in on the plan. Dumbledore is alive, Voldemort dies, Harry dies, Dobby then fights Dumbledore and dies. Luna kills Neville, Harry becomes an Overlord who doesn't really care about getting revenge … until he discovers that he was a __virgin__ sacrifice to the Greater Good. Royally pissed, eight years later he returns to England to get his revenge. He kills several Order members, collects Luna and a Hermione whose sanity is apparently linked to the light switch in the reader's residence that no one has any idea what it turns on or off (but you can't resist flicking now and then), and – with the help of the goblins – has created an identity seeking to assault other targets financially. Dark Mistress Luna is indulging in her "enslaving people thing" and fixation on necromancy while trying to push Hermione and Harry closer together. The Aurors are trying to make sense of Order murders, vanishing women, and grave robbing. Harry is trying to get a handle on the fact that Overlord Magic and Wizard Magic don't mix (and the fact that he is Luna's "Great Necromancer, Harry Potter") and his new, chipper attitude. After trying to complete her new, altered mindscape by finally accepting her memories of having been married to Ron, Hermione's sanity switch is once again in the off position._

_But who's the guy trying to get in touch with Hermione that calls her "luv"?_

"Please forgive my impertinence, Sire … BUT WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?"

Startled, Harry's hands froze over the keyboard and mouse before him. Glancing around, he took stock of the empty two-litre bottles, empty pizza boxes, butterbeer bottles, cartons of both Indian and Chinese food, and soda cans strewn about the room. Completing the circuit, he looked up again at Gnarl. "Um … I took an arrow to the knee?"

"What?" The minion master's demeanor immediately changed to confusion. Moving forward, he stared at his master's legs. "I'm certain that the Blues would have informed me if you had been injured in – GREAT GOOGAMOOGAH!"

Seeing that Gnarl was now staring at the large monitor on the wall, Harry fidgeted slightly in embarrassment. "Well, the salesman just looked at me strangely when I asked about Donkey Kong and a Colecovision, but then he offered me this setup instead."

Gnarl continued to stare at the scene on the screen. Finally finding his voice, he asked, "I've heard you speak of 'video games' before … but what on earth is that?"

Harry glanced at the screen. "What? The fancy elven, fox-tailed butt-plug? Or the Dunmer anal beads?"

Instead of choosing, Gnarl merely said, "I thought your games were meant to entertain and deaden the minds of human _children_." _Well, except for dodgeball,_ thought Gnarl. _A brilliant way to introduce younglings to the fine art of torture._

"What? Oh, yeah. But then the salesman told me about something called 'mods'…."

xXxXx

"There, there. That's it." Luna tilted the potion bottle she was currently holding to the crying Hermione's lips. "Just close your eyes and get some rest. There's nothing so terrible that it can't be fixed. Go to sleep for right now. I'll work on the situation and we can talk more about it when you wake up." She watched as Hermione's eyes began to flutter. Once the larger girl had fallen asleep, Luna struggled out of the deathgrip the brunette had had her in for hours. Carefully lowering Hermione to the bed, the blond stood up and stretched the kinks from her own arms.

_This isn't 'terrible.' It's a bloody disaster! Hecate, what am I supposed to do about this? I can't fault her for thinking that sleeping with that weasel was disgusting … but I'll never convince her that Harry loves her __**despite**__ of that!_ Clenching her fists in frustration, Luna moved to pace back and forth before the fireplace. _Daddy, I wish you were here to talk to right now. You always had remarkable insight. At the very least, you could have given me a good, hard paddling. That was always so relaxing._

_Harry loves her enough to overlook Ron's taint on her. The solution, then, centers around changing Hermione's understandable – and quite justified – viewpoint._ Sighing, Luna flicked her wand and muttered, "_Tempus_." Having used a Ravenclaw variation of the spell, a small calendar appeared in the air alongside the current time. _I've bought some time. It's amazing how far and fast boys will run when the rivers flow red. How long can I stall, though? A few more days, perhaps? That's not nearly enough time!_

Luna suddenly jerked to a stop. _Time! That's it!_ Various plans whipped through her mind, most immediately discarded. Those which weren't were placed on a mental list and constantly rearranged in regards to viability. With a determined expression upon her face, she marched from the room to find a certain Blue, plans continuously being scrapped and rewritten as she did so.

xXxXx

"No, Sire! The Ice Spike! Use your Ice Spike! Oh … budge over!"

xXxXx

"So … what was their take on your shaky theory?"

Gawain shot his friend a look of disgust. "They were completely behind it. It was sickening. George Weasley was a friend of theirs, but Dumbledore is quick to see the potential bad in everyone who's not named Albus. Oh, he'd probably be forgiven and given a light sentence, but Dumbledore is already convinced of the Weasley's guilt!"

Jensen shook his head in resignation. "What about Shack?"

Gawain couldn't keep the sneer from his face. "He's too blinded by the shining light that is Albus Bloody Dumbledore to have an opinion of his own!"

"Shame, that. He was a good Auror, once."

The head of the DMLE sighed and nodded. "Once. Now he's just another Fudge. Instead of being in the pocket of a Malfoy, though, he's in Dumbledore's pocket."

Jensen leaned back in his chair and dropped his feet upon his boss' desk. "Tell me, mate … what was the point?"

"Eh?" Hearing the tone in his ex-partner's voice, Gawain opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of Odgen's and two glasses. He began to pour the drinks as his old friend continued.

"That poor Potter kid killed Voldemort at the cost of his own life. What's changed since then? Purebloods shouted 'Imperious!' and Dumbledore stood up and talked about forgiveness and healing at their trials. I doubt that gold exchanged hands this time, but Death Eaters still walk the streets and blatant bigotry rules the Wizengamot. Voldemort may have lost … but what about his flunkies? Just back to business as usual for them."

Gawain sighed as he handed Jensen one of the glasses. "No arguments here. I wanted to see barrels o' veritaserum used in the courtrooms. Kiss the lot of 'em … pureblood or not!"

Accepting the drink, Jensen nodded. "No matter what we do, I just can't get over the idea that it's all just heading down the crapper."

Gawain knocked back his shot of Odgen's and shrugged. Pouring himself another drink, he raised it and sadly made a toast. "Ours is not to reason why …"

"… ours is simply to do or die." With a shrug, Jensen threw back his own drink. "I say we drink till we both puke on this nice new carpet in your office."

Gawain grinned weakly. It felt like his first in a very long while. "Sounds like a plan."

xXxXx

Forgotten, a slice of pizza fell from Harry's hand. "Left, left! Damnit, Gnarl, run to the left! That Thalmor's about to kill you!"

xXxXx

Hermione sat on the other side of the table practically vibrating in anticipation. Upon her awakening, Luna had told her to meet her and Leonard here. According to Luna, the ancient Blue had a possible solution to her problems.

Across from Hermione, Luna sat next to Leonard. Leaning forward, Luna asked, "Hermione … how much do you know about healing magic?"

Hermione frowned in confusion. "Not very much, I'm afraid. My training included some battlefield healing arts. Setting bones, stopping bleeding, putting someone under stasis till a Healer can be reached … that kind of thing."

After a nervous glance towards a smiling Luna, Leonard leaned forward. "To choose a simple example … let me explain the healing of a simple cut. Once the magic is cast, the wound is cleaned and severed tissues are physically pulled back together. While the wound is now closed, this does nothing to actually speed up the healing of the injury. Are you with me so far?"

Hermione gave a sharp nod of her head, her gaze now burning into the Blue.

Leonard gulped. He wasn't sure which was more unnerving … the intense stare of the brunette or Mistress Luna's wand currently jabbing into his belly under the table. "Over time the body heals itself. Infections are fought off … the severed tissues reattach to each other … and the scars fade away. That's where the magic comes into play. Time is sped up within a very specific area, that being the wound itself. Nothing but the wound is affected."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So are you saying that magical healing is merely the acceleration of natural healing processes?"

Leonard winced at the jab in his belly. "Precisely." There was another jab. "Well, not always. Not in all examples of healing, of course. But for our purposes, yes."

Hermione nodded. "Okay … but what does that have to do with me?"

"As I understand it, you are aware that Albert has been performing many experiments with the manipulation of time for our master."

"But what does that have to do with –"

"I believe that with his help, the nature of healing can be reversed. If he consults with me, I may be able to cast healing magic which takes the tissues _back_ in time at an accelerated rate rather than forward."

"What … what exactly are you saying?" Hermione practically whispered.

"I believe that it would be possible to take healthy tissue and … turn back the clock, as it were. Restore it to a pristine state before any … undesirable … influences had come in to play."

Smiling, Luna added, "Throwing in a purification ritual just to be on the safe side …."

For the first time since shelving that accursed photo album, a smile began to tug at Hermione's lips. "You … you think this could actually be done?"

Leonard saw the hope shining brightly in the woman's eyes. "Oh, yes. It shouldn't be that hard at all –" he winced again as a wand tip sank at least two inches into his gut "—to set up the purification ritual." Pausing, Leonard felt the wand withdraw. "As for the healing itself, it would require some work to devise the necessary modifications and then some testing before being ready. I have every confidence in its success, however. Perhaps in a few days?" Leonard girded himself for another jab but was pleased when none came.

The expression on Hermione's face continued to rapidly shift as she considered what she had been told; frowns vied with small grins as her internal debate raged. _A whole new start! It would be like it had never happened! _Her grin quickly morphed into a frown. _Don't be stupid, Hermione. Nothing will change the past. You loved Harry, and then you betrayed your master! To make matters worse, you betrayed him with THAT worthless piece of shite! Even if the clock is turned back for your body, it STILL won't change the fact that you brought Ron into your bed … almost allowed him to spawn with the aid of your womb!_

Luna kept the eager, helpful smile plastered to her face but found her shoulders knotting up with tension as time marched on as she awaited a response from Hermione.

Two views warred within the brunette, neither granting a respite to the other. Suddenly, a third side let itself be known. Yes, Ron had been a defilement to her soul as well as her body. Only half of that dark stain could be removed. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that she did not deserve her master … but Harry wanted her anyway. It was not her place to question his desires, merely to fulfill them to the best of her abilities. She would never be able to wipe the slate clean, but the Blues would allow her to at least clear off half the board.

Leonard's eyes nervously flicked between his master's Mistress and the master's companion. He sat there awaiting either another jab in the gut or some hex to end his life. The ancient Blue was surprised, however, when the brunette before him lunged across the table and gave the Blue a bone-cracking hug. "Thank you! Thank you!"

"Hermione, I've studied a bit of healing. Why don't you go up and continue work on that hybrid Imperius-Domination spell for Harry while I see if there's any way I might be able to help Leonard."

Hermione's smile lit up the room as she nodded and practically skipped from the chamber.

Upon hearing a cheery cry of "Good morning, Bob! Brilliant day isn't it?" coming from far down the corridor, a mistress and a Blue both relaxed, letting tension flow from their bodies.

Leonard shook his head. "I can't believe she actually bought that codswallop. Certainly, the restoration of a hymen isn't too difficult, but as far as the rest is concerned? Sheer steaming mounds of shite!"

Luna sighed as a small smile played about her lips. "Hermione is the most logical, most intelligent person I know. But one thing trumps logic and plows right over facts."

Leonard raised an eye ridge in curiosity.

"It's not a great mystery, Leonard. It's the simple – sometimes overwhelming – _need_ to believe."

"Well, I hope that this doesn't happen again. I hate lying about my craft. Damnit, mistress! I'm a healer, not a solicitor!"

Luna shrugged. "I'll worry about her, you just worry about whipping up a fake casting which will impress her. Something with plenty of sound and a large helping of fury." Getting up, Luna moved to exit the room and join Hermione. Turning back to Leonard, she added, "And while you're poking around in there … be sure to make a few extra tucks while you replace her hymen. I think both she and our master would appreciate that." Turning around to leave, Luna paused and spun around once again. "Oh, and before you cast the 'healing' be sure to remind me to give you a potion to have her take at the same time. It should repair the damage caused by that anniversary gift I once gave her."

Her work completed, Luna skipped out of the room.

xXxXx

Gnarl leaned back nibbling on his pizza slice coated with Phall curry while Harry worked on boosting his character's smithing and enchanting skills by making magical nipple rings for his followers. "I do believe, sire, that Giblet would quite enjoy actually making a few of those items for your ladies if you'd like."

Harry thought about it for a few moments before shrugging. "A few of them, maybe. Some of them are just _wrong_." Relaxing from his relaxation, Harry finally settled back on the couch and sighed. "You know, Gnarl … something's been bothering me and …."

"My apologies, sire, but I don't _do_ angst."

Harry snorted. Adopting an exaggerated whine, he turned puppy eyes to his minion master and sniffled, "But … but … you've always been there for me Gnarl! A true mentor and father figure!"

Gnarl calmly stared at his master. "And if you should require aid in planning a battle, tips on raping a female, or subverting a kingdom … I'm there for you –" extending one ancient claw, Gnarl patted his master on the knee, "—my son."

Master and minion locked gazes for a moment and then they both exploded into laughter.

"Good one, Gnarl. I'll grant you that," came from Harry after catching his breath. "But that also is a perfect example of what concerns me. Something's wrong. Or if not wrong, there is something that I need to at least be aware of. Contact the tower and see if everyone's ready for another mission. I think it's high time to roast another weasel and collect a bird tomorrow. Tonight … I want to talk over my concerns with someone. Get their thoughts on the matter. I need to talk to my most sane, level-headed mistress –"

"I'll contact Mistress Luna at once, sire."

Harry snapped his head around towards Gnarl only to see a bird-who-ate-the-Chesire-Cat sized grin on his face. Shaking his head, Harry sighed. "Not funny, Gnarl. Send Kelda word that I want her up in my bedchambers immediately."

"At once, sire."

***** Yes, yes, I know. Bad, Gwydion, BAD! My apologies. I won't weave a tale of family deaths, real life hardships, dying muses or whatnot. No disrespect for those it happens to … I'm just saying that none of those happened to me. I took a break … some stuff came up … I'm a lazy bastard … and inertia took over. When a couple of your favorite authors tell you "Dude, you need to continue your story," well … that's a real kick in the pants. Unfortunately, after a year and a half, the "scenes" remain quite clear in my mind, but the "stitching" between the scenes can be a bit murky. This chapter was mostly "stitching." Hopefully, now that I'm back, I'll be able to slip into the proper groove. I just didn't want to keep re-writing this chapter over and over and keep people waiting longer.**

***** Because everyone waited so long, I thought that I should provide a special treat. I don't know when I'll start serious work on it (all the "scenes" are pretty much already in my head) because once I finish this story, I may decide to take a break from Harry the Overlord and do another story before writing Book Two (name as of yet undetermined). Once this tale of Overlord Potter is done, if people wish to see it continued, this is an excerpt from that future tale ….**

"I … I don't understand."

Harry smiled kindly as he took the child by the hand and gently drew him from the cupboard. The "pull" Hermione had warned him about was difficult to resist, but he did not allow the struggle to appear on his face. "I know. It's really confusing, but I'll try to make it as simple as possible. Let's go find a comfortable seat and I'll explain all that I can."

"But my aunt and uncle – "

"Don't worry about them. My friends are with them and, if all goes well, you'll never need worry about them ever again." Hermione and a handful of Greens were with the child's relatives right now in another section of the house. Harry crossed mental fingers that she kept herself under control. For right now, he had need of them. Alive, even if not whole. But if she got started, he doubted there would be enough left for his purposes.

Leading the boy into the kitchen, Harry gestured for the child to take a seat while he sat in the other. "There's no easy way to put this … but my name is Harry James Potter."

"But … that's _my_ name!"

"Yes, it is. We share it because I _am_ you. I'm the you of the future. Remember that library book we felt bad about because Dudley destroyed it? It's kind of like that story."

"But that was a make-believe story! Like those stories about magic!"

Harry chuckled. "You'd be surprised, Harry. Let me tell you a story … a story about us. It's not going to be a pretty story. To be truthful, it's a rotten one … filled with betrayal, hardship, and broken dreams. BUT … it does one day get better. I'll think you'll like that part. After a long, long while, you'll eventually have friends and people who care about you as much as you will come to care for them."

Harry wished Professor Trelawney had been present. He spent the next hour and a half telling his younger self about his next five years with the Dursleys, getting his letter to Hogwarts, his adventures and betrayals as a student there, and finally his time (highly sanitized, of course) as the Overlord.

"I don't understand. If you had put paid to everything … why are you here? Why did you come back?"

Harry smiled at the curious lad. "Because I could? No, no … just kidding. Those bastards took away our childhood. They crushed our dreams. I've gotten my revenge, but that's not enough. I came here to give us our childhood back."

"How … how can you do that?"

Harry gave his younger self a comforting smile, "By giving you a chance to side-step everything I've told you. I've already had to go through it all, but you don't. Join me and you can skip all the bad parts I told you about. We will become one. It will be in the past … and being who I am, knowing what I know … we can have fun while giving them a good poke in the eye."

"If … if I said 'no' … could you do it anyways?"

_Damn! I was sharper than I remembered at six!_ Harry sighed. "I've lied to myself plenty of times in the past, but I'm not going to lie to you now, Harry. Yes, I could. But I don't want to! We've suffered so much; you _will_ suffer so much without my help. We deserve better."

Tears came to younger-Harry's eyes. "And there will be people who care about me? Who love me?"

Harry felt his chest tighten and tears almost come to his own eyes. _I've heard of feeling sorry for yourself, but this is ridiculous!_ "Yes, Harry. There will be people who love you. And you will have the strength to take care of them and keep other people from ever hurting you again."

Harry watched himself bite his own lip in thought. After a bit, the child nodded and extended his hands over the kitchen table. Taking the small hands in his, Harry stopped fighting the pull as a blinding white light formed until it faded to leave him in complete darkness.

Floating in darkness, Harry couldn't help but chuckle. _I guess what goes around, comes around. This reminds me of waking up in that coffin so many years ago …._

With a wave of his hand, Harry's mindscape began to take shape. As his Tower throne room formed about him, he looked down and smiled at his now six-year-old form. _Damn, I was scrawny! Well, I've got five years to work on the physical shell …._

"Potter! What is this! You don't have the strength to form a mindscape!"

Harry spun around. A familiar form stood near his Tower Gate, looking about in shock. Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Marv! How's it hanging, mate? I wasn't really expecting to see you here."

Voldemort snapped his gaze back towards the child on the far side of the room. "There is more to you than I first thought, child. But don't think that this … _fluke_ … impresses me in any way."

Tom Marvolo Riddle began some sort of rant, but Harry had already tuned him out as he approached his throne. He hadn't really taken this into consideration. His younger self retained the Horcrux that had been stuck in his head for so long. He once again shared his head with a tiny sliver of a tiny soul.

But this time … he was the Overlord. The most powerful necromancer in existence. And souls were naught more than playthings to him.

Sitting down upon his throne, Harry raised his head to the mental heavens. "I forgive you," he whispered.

"Are … are you _crying_, Potter?"

Harry nodded at the hideous figure. "Yes, Marv. Thank you for your concern. But these are happy tears."

The lights began to dim. Soon, inky shadows filled the throne room. In the darkness, the Dark Lord saw a pair of glowing eyes open. And then another. And then another. Beneath each set, wide smiles filled with gleaming fangs appeared as more and more appeared all around him. "What is this, Potter? What's going on?"

"It's simple, Marv, old chum. I've just realized that after this … I get to kill you six more times."

Voldemort drew back as the figures hidden in the shadows but for their glowing eyes and deadly smiles began to close in around him.


	20. Luv and Admittance

**Chapter 20**

**Luv & Admittance**

***** There y'all are! Sheesh! It took you long enough to show up for a new chapter. Talk to the hand: I don't want to hear your excuses. I don't care about RL or that you lost your Reader's Muse or have been suffering from Reader's Block. You in the back – your reading-eye dog got hit by a car? Okay … you, I forgive.**

**To be serious for a moment … I fell through the veil of WHAT? No, sorry. Just been a lazy bastiche. I'll try to do better. Now … on to my demented ramblings of the keyboard!**

**By the way, this shouldn't need to be said but some people get downright silly. Views/opinions will be presented that the author in no way shares. In my story, Harry can be funny, but he's an evil, twisted bastard. The author, on the other hand, is an evil, twis—urm … the author doesn't share these **_**particular **_**views.**

Hermione knew that she should have gone to sleep hours ago, but she just felt too full of energy. Leonard's treatment wouldn't be a cure-all, but it was the most she had the right to ask for and it would have to serve. Deep down, she knew that she still wouldn't be worthy of her master's love but she would at least be more deserving of Harry's affection than she was now.

Once again, she failed to fight off the childish grin which was continuously tugging at the corner of her lips. _Oh, Harry … I know that I'll never be able to make it up to you, but I swear on my magic, my life, my heart, and my soul, that I'll never stop trying. Just you wait and see!_

With a shake of her head, Hermione returned her attention to her work. Adjusting the swivel-mounted magnifying lens over the section of the spell-stone torus on which she was working, she carefully used her small hammer and chisel to add the extension runes to the Overlord's "Evil Presence" spell. It should now move from the equivalent of a cruciatus curse to her modified imperius curse before reaching the creation of a drone which itself proceeded the painful broiling and extinguishing of the victim's life force.

Hermione shook her head. She still hadn't quite figured that last one out. How could the soul be basically destroyed but still provide energy which could be harvested for the minion hives?

Finishing up the last rune in the base arithmagical equation, Hermione rubbed the back of her neck and glanced towards the Blue that was busily working on another section of the formula. "How's it going for you, Eyegore?"

Albert's chief assistant turned his hideous face towards the master's companion. A smile appeared under mismatched eyes: one tiny as a button while the other was completely bloodshot and taking up more than half the space available on his face.

"Almost finished, Mist—urm, Miss Hermininy. Just four more runesets and the notes you gave me will be completely transcribed and in their proper place."

Hermione nodded, used to the minions not knowing where exactly she might stand in their master's hierarchy. "Just make sure the instructions are followed precisely. The placement of the runes is critical."

Eyegore suppressed an angry snort but could not conceal the affronted look upon his face.

Shaking her head, Hermione worked a few cricks out of her back before turning to approach the worktable being used by her and Luna. Luna had finished quite some time ago with her work on the far side of the torus. The blond had been working on a minor subsection of instructions, but Hermione felt no reason for concern. Luna had been working on the equivalent of a data field which had no direct bearing on the operation of the spell itself. Perhaps she would ask the younger girl the purpose of her work tomorrow. It had been nice having her as company, anyway, during her own work on the imperious-templated-domination hybrid. _Hmm. I really have to figure out a better name for that._

Luna appeared to be deep in thought, chewing on the nib of her quill with a half-filled page of parchment before her.

"Is something wrong, Luna?"

"What? Oh, no, not really. I'm just trying to determine who should be the next acquisition for operation Hogwarts Reunion."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How about Cho?" she offered just to be friendly.

An unusually evil glint appeared in Luna's eyes. "Oh, Velvet finished processing her a few days ago. She's currently assigned to keeping the stables clean."

"Sweet Morgana, Luna! Is that why you asked for all those heavy spices to be added to Hedwig's raw meat?" The smell from the stables had recently achieved legendary status. _Luna must really still bear a grudge over the bullying she suffered from the older Raven at Hogwarts._

Luna merely giggled in reply. "I'm thinking it's time for another Slytherin. Maybe Blaise Zabini?"

Hermione's jaw dropped and she merely stared at her friend for a moment. Upon recovering, she managed, "Um … Luna, Blaise is a guy."

Luna raised her head to lock gazes with the brunette before cocking her head to the side. "Is she really?"

"Yes, she's – I mean – no, he's …." Clenching her fists in frustration, Hermione tried again. "Luna. Blaise. Is. A. Guy."

"Oh." After a moment's consideration, Luna's face scrunched up as if she had just tasted something sour. "Eww. You don't think that Harry would still want –"

"No, Luna. Just … no."

Luna sighed in relief. "Well, that's good to know. You really had me worried there for a minute, Hermione."

Hermione did her best not to growl.

xXxXxXx

As he pushed opened the door to the master bedroom, Harry called out, "Kelda? Are you in here?" Glancing down, he noticed a trail of blood leading to the bathroom. Straining his senses, he could detect the sound of running water. Sighing, he pulled out his rod and started scourgifying the carpet as he walked towards the room's ensuite bath.

Following the trail of blood, Harry opened the door and spotted a pile of clothing on the tile floor. Kelda's leather garments were completely saturated with the crimson fluid. Deciding to leave that for the cleaning slaves (having had no desire to acquire any house elves), Harry turned his attention towards the figure in the shower.

Even though he'd never say it aloud, Kelda was his favorite of the "Old Guard." Arguably less insane than her fellow mistresses, she had always been there for him … loyal, dependable, and as much a friend and advisor as she was a lover.

_Blimey!_ realized Harry._ She's the Hermione of the Overworld!_ _Well ... before Hermione fucked up, at least._

Softly chuckling at that realization, Harry smiled and gazed upon his mistress.

The shortest and most physically fit of all his mistresses, Kelda was the most unusual in that she was the most unlike any of his other women. Fay, Velvet, Rose, and Juno were all somewhat aristocratic in both temperment and style. On a battlefield, they would most likely be wearing a dress and drinking wine in some pavilion overlooking the conflict. Kelda was more the type that would be out of her leathers and with her legs locked around her Lord in a foxhole during a lull in the battle.

Harry smiled at the memory. That had first happened when she fought with him to take over her own home village. And several times after that. She was not one to stay in the Tower when the Overlord was waging war.

Gazing fondly at the petite redhead, he smiled in amusement as the now crimson water swirled into the drain. "None of that is yours, I assume," he smiled as he allowed his eyes to roam over her nude form. Merely to ensure she was unwounded, of course!

"Witchboy!" she squealed in delight. Jumping out of the shower, she threw herself at the Overlord and proceeded to hug him tightly, heedless of the fact that his clothing was now soaked by her naked body. "Those strange looking dwarves of yours stocked a section of the grounds like you said they would. I've encountered the most beautiful of animals. Today I stalked something they called a Bengal tiger!"

Wrapping his arms around the slippery girl, Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "A TIGER? In ENGLAND?"

Zelda nodded as she nuzzled at his neck. "Is that strange?"

Harry shrugged while squeezing her buttocks. "Well … I guess it could have been stolen from a zoo."

"Wherever they got it, it made for a fantastic hunt. It had huge, sharp, pointy teeth and … well, it was a mean little bastard! It almost had me there for a bit before I managed to slash its throat!"

Sighing, Harry shook his head. "I'd ask you to be more careful … if I thought it would do any good."

Smiling mischievously, the redhead giggled into Harry's neck. Standing on tip-toe, she pressed her lips to his. "Oh, Witchboy … hey! You're all wet! Why don't you get out of those wet things and join me in the shower?"

"Hey! You're the one who got me all wet!"

Kelda grinned lecherously. "Well … turnabout is fair play." Taking hold of Harry's hand, she guided him back towards the shower.

xXxXx

Miranda brushed the hair from her eyes as she finished proofreading the interdepartmental memo for Mr. Robards. Being a muggleborn, she gritted her teeth in frustration. Now she only had to cast thirty-seven duplication charms on the damn thing before moving on to the next one.

She currently felt that she would happily sacrifice her first-born child in exchange for a goddamn photocopier.

"Hello," came a soft, cultured voice. "I'd like to speak with Mr. Robards."

Miranda didn't even look up from her work. "Did you have an appointment Mr...?"

"No." There was a soft chuckle, "And if I told you my name, I'm afraid I'd have to Obliviate you."

Miranda's eyes shot up, an expression of alarm upon her face.

The figure before her desk chuckled again and smiled. "Forgive me, my dear. A small joke." Raising his hand he held his thumb and forefinger extremely close together. "Infinitesimally small."

Unamused, Miranda examined the comedian. She admitted to herself that he was kind of cute, in a geek-chic kind of way. There was something strangely familiar about him as well. His black hair was graying at the temples. He wore it short, but obviously had little control over it. Actually, his hair looked like he had just gotten out of bed. His attire was what she thought of as "stereotypical cool college professor." Tweed jacket complete with leather elbow patches, faded jeans, actual Hush Puppies on his feet, and a rumpled dress shirt under a loosely worn, wrinkled tie. Tall and thin, he seemed very relaxed for someone standing outside the office of the head of the DMLE.

Miranda had difficulty determining his most striking feature: his roguish grin or the piercing green eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses. "I'm going to need a name, Mr. …."

"Tennant. David Tennant."

Miranda shot him a glare. "And I'm Billie Piper. Now pull the other one."

The visitor smiled brightly at the secretary. "Ahhh! Muggleborn or Muggle-raised?"

"Both. Not that it's any of your business. Name."

"That joke earlier … I'm afraid I wasn't joking. Well I was, but about it being a joke." As Miranda frowned at his explanation, he withdrew a leather wallet from his coat pocket. Opening it, he lay it upon the desk in front of Miranda.

Miranda gasped in surprise. It might as well have been psychic paper. She found herself looking down at a plain black metallic card. Embossed upon it were simply three golden letters: DoM.

Like all ministry employees, Miranda had heard of these cards. She had never expected to actually see one herself, however. They were supposedly impossible to forge and would disintegrate if ever more than five feet from the person to whom they had been issued.

Nervously, she looked up with her question clearly on her face.

Smiling, "Mr. Tennant" merely nodded towards the card.

Withdrawing her wand, Miranda cast the verification spell taught to all ministry employees on their first day. In response, the identification card briefly glowed green.

"I – uh – it would appear that your credentials are in order, Mr. Tennant. Would you like me to announce you?"

"If you'd be so kind."

"One moment, sir." Quickly standing, Miranda moved to her employer's door, knocked twice and opened it. "Mr. Robards, there's a –" glancing over her shoulder, mischief sparkled in her eyes "– Doctor from the D.O.M here to see you."

The Unspeakable chuckled, "Cheeky wench."

Returning to her desk, Miranda smiled at him. "You can go right in, sir. And by the way … Tom Baker was the best!"

Chuckling again, the Unspeakable walked to the office door. "Only fashion-wise, my dear. I must admit, scarves and fedoras are cool."

"What can I do for the Mysteries, Doctor … who?"

The Unspeakable closed the door behind him automatically activating the various privacy wards around every department head's office. "Nah. That's not me. That's the other bloke." Laughing at his inside joke, he moved to the chair Robards gestured towards. "You have sufficient clearance, Mr. Robards. My name is Tyrone Mintumble, head of the Department of Time."

"Mintumble … Mintumble … any relation to –"

"Yes, yes. Even after a hundred years, gran makes a teensy mistake and no one lets you live it down!"

"Well … not to be rude, but I do have a rather full plate at the moment. What can I do for you?"

"I've authorized myself a leave of absence. I've seen the department memos. A subordinate of mine has turned up missing. She fits the profile: young, attractive, and graduated Hogwarts within the right year range. I'll let you look at my CV, but you'll see that I'm also a fully certified Hit Wizard. I'd like to offer my assistance in the investigation."

Gawain leaned back in his chair. They could certainly use an extra hand … and the help of an Unspeakable and Hit Wizard was not to be scoffed at. But there was something missing.

"Forgive me, but this seems rather strange. A department head of the Department of Mysteries taking time off to look for an employee?"

"This particular employee is rather special. In a way, I've known her since I authorized her use of a time-turner in her third year."

"You did WHAT?" Gawain practically shouted.

"Oh, calm down. She came out of the muggle system with an impressive CV and was looking like she would surpass it in ours. We wanted to see how responsible she was … whether she'd be worth recruiting later. The turner we loaned her had so many limiters, governors, tracking and remote scrying charms on it that the worst she could do was transition out of our time stream."

"Urm … what?"

"Time-turners were modified after my gram's minor slip up. The past cannot be changed. We give everyone the 'disaster speech' to keep them honest, but the worst that would happen is that they would vanish from this reality/time stream and be locked in an alternate stream of their own creation without even realizing it. We loaned her one to see what she would do with it. She turned out more than willing to bend the rules a bit, but her heart was in the right place."

"Still, you gave a _teenager_ a time-turner?"

"You recruit your way and I'll recruit mine. Let's move on, shall we? Over the years, she's also become a good friend of mine. And I'd like to help you find her."

Gawain shook his head in amazement. "Fine. What's the name of this prodigy of yours, anyway?"

"Hermione Weasley."

Gawain sighed, lifted his hand to his face, and rubbed his weary brow. "Of _course_ it is."

xXxXx

"OHSWEETJESUSJOSEPHANDMERLIN!"

Warm, soothing darkness enveloped Harry as he drifted deeper into the arms of Morpheus. Gentle waves seemed to flow around and thru his body pleasantly washing all concerns and tension away into the void. Smiling, he drifted deeper and deeper ….

Until there was a stinging pain in his left cheek.

"Witchboy! Witchboy, are you okay? Answer me!"

"What! I'm fine! And … oww!" Opening his eyes, Harry rubbed at his cheek as Kelda began shaking his shoulders. "What the hell was that for?"

The woman straddling his pelvis leaned back but continued looking worried. She kept rocking forward and back, giving him brief touches as she tried to assure herself that he was alright.

Since he was still fully sheathed within her, Harry found the pleasure from his groin quickly drowning out the sting he felt from his cheek.

Seemingly satisfied that Harry was okay, Kelda settled down and stopped her nervous motions. Seeing his slight frown, she giggled then began to rotate her hips in a slow circular motion. "What's wrong, Witchboy? I'll admit to being good, but I'm not _that_ good! You've never fainted like that. And something's obviously been bothering you lately; you've seemed as tightly wound as a footman's crossbow."

The Overlord sighed in pleasure at her continued ministrations. Then, he sighed in resignation. He had intended to talk to her after all. "Something is going on. It's been getting worse since Albert managed to get me back to England. Everyone's been acting … I don't know … strange? Different at the very least. Just this morning, I was talking to Gnarl. He's always been a bit snarky, but lately he's gotten down right cheeky. I was trying to explain things to him and he actually gave me the mickey! Then the little bugger laughed. Gnarl cackles … usually at someone else's pain or suffering. In eight years, I've never heard him laugh before!" There, he had finally gotten his concerns off his chest. But there was something he was forgetting – "Waitaminute! I did not faint! After a moment of much-needed stress relief, I allowed myself to drift off to sleep," Harry proclaimed with a haughty sniff.

"Whatever." With a sultry chuckle bubbling from her throat, Kelda changed her circular movements to the forward and back serpentine roll that her Lord loved to watch so much while composing her thoughts as how best to explain her belief to the Overlord.

Harry groaned in appreciation. He was unable to refrain from sharply jabbing his hips upwards toward the source of his pleasure. Kelda shrieked as he struck her cervix.

"Aieee!" Slapping her hand on Harry's chest, Kelda gasped out. "Bloody hell, warn a girl before you do that! Give me a chance to adjust the angle!"

Harry chuckled. "Oh, come on. I'm sure that didn't hurt that much."

Leaning forward, Kelda arched an eyebrow and quickly reached behind and under herself to snap the back of two fingers against his testicles.

"Aieee! Damn it woman! That bloody hurt!"

Kelda grinned evily at him. "Oh, come on. I'm sure that didn't hurt _that_ much." At Harry's pout, she broke down and laughed as she slowly lowered herself once more down his length. "You know you can do that to me if you _really_ want to, but I'd appreciate it if you'd limit the battering away at a woman's tender bits to the drones. I'm sure the pain doesn't bother them in the slightest."

"Okay, fine. I'll try to limit that to only when you've been naughty." At her incredulous look, Harry clarified, "If you've upset me somehow."

Kelda stared down at him for a moment then finally shrugged. "Fair enough."

Harry and his sanest mistress simply gazed at each other for a bit, comfortable in the companionable silence and the feeling of his being inside her. After a bit, he unleashed his puppy-eyed look and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Kelda snorted and rolled her eyes. Reaching down, she grabbed his hands and forcefully slapped them to her hips. With a grin, Harry set her hips in motion at an almost languid pace.

"Now, as for the other thing I don't think you need to be concerned. You've changed since you've come back to this world. You're mood has gotten lighter … less serious. I'm sure that the Tower Heart has picked up on that. I'm betting the Heart has just influenced us to reflect that in keeping with your mood."

"What! What do you mean, 'influenced'?"

Kelda looked at her master as though he were an idiot. "'Influence' as in what it's always done. Velvet and Rose couldn't even share a hairbrush! You don't imagine that they'd kill each other over you? But they'll eagerly go down on each other just to give you a show. And all of us would like nothing better than to rip Juno's head off and stick it on the end of a pike. Well, maybe not Fay. Lord knows what goes through that strange mind of hers."

Harry stopped his hands and stared at her with wide-eyes. "You mean all this time I've been raping you and the rest?"

Kelda shook her head which had the inadvertent effect of drawing Harry's gaze to the delightful jiggling which resulted. In turn, Harry shook his head to distract himself from the distraction and returned his concerned gaze a foot or so higher on her body.

"I think I'm going to start calling you 'Thickboy.'" Kelda huffed.

"Why, thank you. But don't try to change the subject."

Kelda sighed in consternation. Leaning down, she rapped a knuckle on Harry's temple. "I was talking about _this_ head … not the one that's currently in my belly. You can't rape the willing, silly boy. All of us want to be with you. As far as I can tell, the only effect the Heart has on us is that it makes us put up with sharing." Kelda seemed to look off into the distance for a moment. "To some extent. I'm pretty sure if I really fought it, I could rip off Juno's tits and shove them down her throat. But I'd probably feel bad about depriving you of her, afterwards." Harry simply stared at her as she started working herself up and down upon his shaft on her own. After a moment, Kelda stopped and looked at him in surprise. "And what have you got against rape, anyway?"

The tips of Harry's ears turned red. "Well … nothing really," he admitted. "But it's not something I'm willing to do personally."

Kelda stopped and raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Really? What about all those women you take after sacking a town?"

"That's not rape! That's merely enjoying the spoils of war."

"Then how about your Hummers?"

"A theological debate with a physical component. And a clear winner."

"That twelve-year-old dwarf you picked up a while back?"

"Was she twelve? No, I don't think so. She was a drone, anyway. Drones can't object since their will is mine. Also, dwarves live twice as long as humans so she's twenty-four in human years," he grinned.

Kelda just looked at him incredulously, then shook her head. "Whatever. Okay, how about that mayor's daughter a year ago? The one you ordered to have sex with you or you'd kill her father."

"Which one?"

"You know the one I'm talking about. The one where you kept doing this with your hand –" at this point she started twisting her hand left and right as if she were swinging a pendulum – "and chanting 'hump or death, hump or death, tick tock, tick tock'?"

Harry chuckled. "Blackmail. To be precise, a political negotiation in which blackmail was a factor."

Kelda rolled her eyes in defeat. "Whatever."

With a smirk, Harry used his hands to start her moving upon him once again. Harry wasn't paying much attention as Kelda approached another peak. Frowning, he suddenly asked "Kelda, can I ask you for help about something else?"

"Just … a … minute … more …."

"Kelda, it's important."

Shoulders slumping, Kelda stopped her ride and sighed in resignation. After a moment to catch her breath, she leaned forward and looked Harry in the eyes. "WHAT!?"

"Sheesh. Bite my head off why don't you? Urm – wait. No. Don't."

Kelda attempted a smile which ended up more like a pained grimace. "Yes? What?"

"I want to ask your advice. It's about Hermione. I don't know what to do about her!"

Kelda frowned in confusion. "What's the problem? If you're feeling randy, fuck her. When you're not randy, she's smart – so give her a project that would serve your needs. If she pisses you off … turn her into a drone and keep the same options. Of course, the projects would need to be simpler if you droned her."

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation. "It's not that simple. I think – no, I know – I have feelings for her. I'm not really sure what they are –"

"You're joking, right? Thickboy. Definitely Thickboy. You love her. Well … there is a slight possibility that you're simply obsessed with her, but I don't think so."

"What? Love her? Considering the way I was raised, I'm not sure I even know what – OWW!"

"Sorry for slapping you, but you were about to get _really_ stupid."

Harry merely rubbed his cheek and glared at her in response.

"No one knows what 'love' is, Thickboy. Bards, poets, and philosophers have been arguing about it since the dawn of time. Everyone has their own idea, but who's to say what's right? If someone shot an arrow at her … would you jump in the arrow's way?"

"Yes." They both noticed that there was no hesitation whatsoever in Harry's response.

"Good enough for me. Her safety – even life – is more important to you than your own. People are selfish bastards. If a selfish bastard puts someone's welfare before their own … that's love to me."

"FINE! I lo—love her." Harry paused. There were no bells … no fireworks … no golden lights. But somehow none were needed. Saying that just felt so … right.

"There. Problem solved. Can we get back to fucking now?"

Harry shook his head, a goofy smile on his face, as he started moving Kelda's hips again. She was once again reaching her peak when he suddenly stopped. "But how do I know if she feels the same way about me?"

With a whimper, Kelda fell forward and started crying in frustration.

"What's wrong?"

Kelda cried harder. It took several minutes of Harry softly stroking her back before she could find her voice. "You love her. You have her. Does it really matter?"

"To me? Yes."

With a sigh, Kelda lifted herself up. "I don't know what to tell you. She's yours. If you ask her, she'll say 'Yes.' But I don't think that will satisfy you. The only other thing I can think of is a story they used to tell us in my childhood."

"What is the story?"

Kelda sighed. "There once was a boy who lived on a seal farm. He watched a birth and became attached to the pup. They grew up together and he loved nothing more than that pup. They spent most of every day together and shared many exciting adventures. As the pup grew, the boy noticed that he would often find it at the corner of the farm, staring at the world past the fence."

"Go on."

"The boy opened the fence and let the pup go free."

Harry smiled. "I think there's a story like this on my world. A parable, I think it's called. 'If you love something, set it free. If it doesn't come back to you, it was never yours to begin with.'"

Kelda looked down at Harry with an incredulous expression. "What kind of idiot world did you grow up in, Witchboy? No! The pup didn't return. The boy then tracked the pup down and clubbed it to death. He made a rug from its pelt and took the virginity of his neighbor's daughter on it before the fireplace one winter night before she became his wife."

"Oh. Well I guess that would work, too."

Kelda shook her head. "Great. Now can we go back to you shagging my brains out?"

xXxXx

Hermione lay spread-eagle, nude, and restrained in the center of the circle which had been inscribed upon the floor. She had only gotten a brief glimpse of the chamber and the runes surrounding the place before she had been blindfolded. Laying there on the cold stone floor she trembled as she felt minion hands upon her.

"My apologies, Miss Hermione. The blindfold is necessary because of the lights that the runes will be sure to emit during the procedure. If your eyes opened even slightly, you would likely be blinded for life."

Hermione had recognized the minion's voice. "That's quite alright, Leonard. I'm prepared to go through whatever is necessary."

"That's good, Miss Hermione, for I fear that the process might be quite painful. This goes beyond healing in that we are 'turning back the clock' so to speak on a particular part of you anatomy. Healing normally means that the natural biological functions are accelerated. This is unheard of. Regressing a small portion of your anatomy to a past condition … well, there might be no problems, but I would think that the possibility of excruciating pain might exist. We just don't know. We are entering unknown territory with this procedure."

"I understand. I'll accept whatever happens. I _need_ this!"

"As you wish, Miss Hermione."

The Blue minion waved his hands over Hermione's abdomen. Within seconds, her hymen had been repaired. Following Mistress Luna's instructions, he had also taken in a tuck or two.

Several other Blues started to chant near nonsense. Each spoke in different languages and either spoke nonsense or a disjointed collection of words which might be considered 'word cabbage.' Leonard forced himself to stifle a laugh as one young blue started speaking in a pig-latin form of dark elf and describing the weather.

"There was a warmth in my abdomen for a moment … but no pain."

"Merely a prepping of the area, Miss. I fear that the results of having different areas of your body traveling in different directions in time should begin about … NOW!"

The other Blues raised the volume of their idiotic chanting. This concealed the fact that Mistress Luna – who had led the girl to the chamber – smiled from the entryway and, while holding out her wand, whispered "_Crucio!"_

Hermione's body arched as much as the restraints allowed as she screamed at the incredible pain she found herself suffering.

Luna smiled at Hermione's suffering. _Yes, he loves you and he needs you. Still, you did betray him! And with Ronald, even! I won't take it far enough to drive you insane … or differently insane … but before that point, you'll pay. Oh, yes, you will pay!_

xXxXx

**Not as far as I wished, true. But I figured I should get this out there just to prove I'm still alive (despite the dementor) and not abandoning the story. Now … excerpts from Book II ….**

Six-year-old Harry sat across from Scarblade. He had already deposited a huge amount of gold and bars of metal from what he referred to as "The Overlord Realm."

"So. There's my trust fund. What else? Family accounts, properties, what?"

Scarblade looked at the young VIP in confusion. "Urm … that's it. The balances in your parents' accounts were added to your trust fund. The Ministry purchased your family residence to make it a historic site and those funds were added to your trust fund as well."

"But … but … there's only what? Twelve thousand in there?"

"Close enough. Four thousand from their savings and the rest being from thirty percent of original appraised value of the abode. The upper floor had been pretty much ruined by whatever happened that night. More than fair. The wizarding public would have accepted nothing less."

"Any stocks? Investments in the muggle world?"

"It turns out that your father was fascinated by the muggle stock market. Invested almost everything he had into something called 'dot coms.' Lost every sickle."

"That doesn't make any sense! Weren't the Potters an Ancient and Noble House?"

"Yes, they were and are. Most noble families today have barely a knut or shilling to their names. It's rare when the next generation adds to a fortune rather than depletes it. Being a noble pretty much just gives someone bragging rights and votes in the Wizengamot. Most family fortunes and lands were lost ages ago. Noble titles have even been sold to others by the completely destitute. If I remember correctly, that's how the Malfoys acquired their seats in the Wizengamot. Purchased them from the Weasleys two generations back, if I recall correctly. Started some kind of silly feud, I gather."

"Well … how 'bout an inheritance test, then? Maybe one of my past relations has something of value."

Scarblade frowned and there seemed to be a moment of indecision in his eyes. Finally, he sighed and pulled out an octagonal stone from his desk drawer.

"Gratis or am I paying for it?"

"The funds will be withdrawn from your account."

Harry sighed. "Fine. What's the big hush-hush?"

After their blood had mingled and the engraved rune activated, Scarblade disclosed a Goblin secret. "If wizards and witches are too lazy to track their own genealogy, why should we goblins?"

"Because … because of money?"

Scarblade snorted. "And there's the rub. We get paid whether or not actual research is done." The goblin opened his desk drawer again and withdrew a pouch. Dumping its contents onto the desk, Harry saw a number of strangely shaped dice.

"Several years ago, Clubgroin – a junior teller at the bank – was assigned to investigate the muggle world under a glamour. He came across something called a 'Novacon.' Seeing the strange appearances of others at the location, he actually dropped his glamour and investigated the gathering. He ended up winning something called 'Best costume, junior division.' While there, he picked up dice much like these. We use them to this day whenever a witch or wizard requests an 'inheritance test.'"

"I don't get it."

Scarblade picked up a pyramid-shaped die. "If someone pays the 50 galleons for the most minimal test, the goblin accepting the money rolls this die and subtracts three from the result. The other dice are used for the varying levels the customer pays for. The most expensive at 1500 galleons means that the twenty-sided die is used and 15 is subtracted from the total."

"But … but … how do you determine _which_ inheritance?"

"Oh, there's a master list. Noble families which died out long ago. Any funds were split between the goblins and ministry shortly after the last legitimate claimant passed on. The only thing the wizard or witch gets is more bragging rights. And seats on the Wizengamot if the dead family line had any."

Harry leaned back in his seat in shock. Scarblade began to get nervous and was about to call for a healer when Harry suddenly leaned forward and started rubbing his hands together.

"Since it's all a huge joke on wizards to begin with … would the goblins be willing to sell those dead titles directly?"

"Normally, no. But with the funds you have on account, I'm sure that the Goblin Nation would be willing to arrange something. Why?"

The Overlord smiled at the goblin. Scarblade actually pulled back in fright. "Are they cheaper by the dozen?"

xXxXx

"No!"

"Aww, c'mon."

"No, Harry. It's stupid."

"It's tradition!"

"No, it's not. The Marauders became animagi in what, their fifth year? Their stupid names were based on their forms, so there is no tradition of them using third person on the first year on platform 9 and ¾."

Harry knew that he could just order her to do it, but he almost never did that with her. "C'mon, Hermione. Please? For me?" He followed that up with his best puppy-eyed look.

Hermione huffed in displeasure. "Fine! Miss Periwinkle still believes that Mister Fuscia's assertion that this idiotic form of communication is traditional is still nothing more than some childish attempt to humiliate Miss Periwinkle."

Harry smiled. "Thank you." The gangly, bespectacled red-headed boy leaned forwards to kiss the almost twelve-year-old muggleborn. Closing her eyes, Hermione enjoyed her master's kiss while trying to blank out the form he currently wore.

"Well, it would seem that Mr. Gold might have arrived at an uncomfortable time. Assuming, of course, that only Mr. Fuscia would be so audacious as to kiss Mr. Fuscia's pet."

"Mr. Fuscia acknowledges Mr. Gold's powers of deduction. Mr. Fuscia also wonders if Mr. Gold has any knowledge of Mr. Black's whereabouts?"

"Mr. Gold spotted Mr. Black earlier. He believes that the aforementioned Mr. Black is currently terrorizing the younger years and establishing himself in what will most likely be Slytherin House."

Harry nodded. "And for Mr. Gold? I'm surprised that you are here."

"Mr. Gold has looked upon his classmates and found himself disgusted. They are sheep, nothing more."

Harry looked about and considered his fellow students. "Mr. Gold may have a point, but however Mr. Fuscia thinks that Mr. Gold might not be seeing the sheep for what they truly are."

Mr. Gold raised his eyebrow.

Harry smiled evilly. "They are sheep, yes. But Mr. Gold should consider those sheep as 'future constituents.'"

Mr. Gold shrugged, but finally nodded in acceptance. "Press the flesh time, then?"

Harry nodded. He and Mr. Gold headed to opposite sides of the platform. Harry, in his polymorphed guise with a red afro, glasses, suspenders, and built like a string bean, grabbed the hand of the first first-year he saw.

"Hey! How are yah? I'm Tom Marvolo Riddle. Call me Marv!"

xXxXx

"So … have you decided what to do yet?"

"For tonight? Certainly! I'm going to have you dripping cum from three orifices before I bring in the Patil twins."

"Honestly, Harry! I'm talking about the tasks."

"Oh, that. I figure 'Shock and Awe' for the first task and 'Exterminate with Extreme prejudice' for the third."

"What about the second?"

"Oh, that's the comedic interlude. That reminds me … we have to get a band of house elves together."

"A band of house elves? For what?"

Harry looked at Hermione as if she were a complete idiot. "For Yakitty Sax, of course!"


	21. Two for the Bush Beats a Hand Alone

**Chapter 21**

**Two for the Bush Beats a Hand Alone**

***** Alright, please don't have a heart attack! This is likely not the new update schedule. It'd probably be safer to consider it a fluke. Of course, the webmaster's back from his vacation, so the Thay PW should be up again soon. Ergo, no promises on what a schedule might look like. **

**Not mine … yadah, yadah. You know the drill.**

**Points of view shift from one side of the scrying crystal to the other (changing the way convo's are documented). Figure it out. You can do it, Duffy Moon!**

"Hmm. I believe I see her, but I don't see him around."

Harry could almost hear the 'harumph' coming from the other side of Gnarl's scrying crystal. _Maybe if you had taken a pair of omnioculars instead of that antique …._

"Hey! I love this spyglass. It makes me feel all dashing and piratey!"

_That's not even a real word. Honestly!_

The Overlord couldn't help but grin while picturing Hermione's likely expression.

_As unamusing as I find your banter, master … madam, are those 'ward' things going to give you any problem, sire?_

_Being keyed in to the wards should supersede any intent wards he has up. I have no idea about the minions, however. If they should register as inferi AND if he has any wards against inferi up OR the keying doesn't prevent the wards from registering Harry's intent for the minions …._

As Gnarl and Hermione started arguing about the unknown back at the Tower, Harry tuned them out and summoned a nameless minion to his side. "C'hello. You now have a name. I hereby dub thee Wardcheck!" Harry allowed the minion to bounce up and down in pleasure for a moment before grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and throwing him over the top of the sand dune which he and the rest of his minions were behind. Lifting his spyglass back up to one eye, Harry watched the minion land and tumble down the dune. Once the Brown had stopped rolling, Harry gestured towards the cottage. Grinning happily, honored to serve, the minion rushed forward to a point well past where Harry knew the ward line would be. Extending his gauntlet, Harry willed the minion to stop and return before anyone in the cottage might notice him.

"Good news, guys. Since the minions are tied to me, it seems that neither the fidelious nor any of the wards affect them."

_What!? Harry!_

The Overlord could practically hear his minion master's sigh at the scrying crystal. _Plan B it was, then._

Collapsing the spyglass' cylinder, Harry couldn't hide his grin. "Yeppir. I now return us to our regularly scheduled attack. Are you ready, Gnarl?"

_One moment, sire._

Hermione watched in confusion as Gnarl stood in his chair and crawled up onto the table. As he positioned himself to be able to look straight down at the crystal, he pulled a gray box from inside of his robes and set it next to the large stone. She was about to ask the minion about it when she was distracted by the pool gate disgorging a familiar figure leading several Browns carrying an unconscious female.

"What? NO Luna, just … no!"

"But you told me I couldn't get Blaise!" the blond whined. "So I need this one to keep things in balance!"

"_Blaise?"_ came Harry's voice from the crystal. "_That was some bird in Slytherin, wasn't it?"_

Back in England, Harry jerked his head back in surprise as it seemed that some wild grizzly bear was in his throne room and growling at the crystal. After a long silence, Hermione's voice could be made out. _I'm not even going to go there. I won't! You can deal with this when you get back. I'm washing my hands of it!_

"Sheesh, Mione. Are you _sure_ you're over that … um … 'condition'? It doesn't sound like it."

_Yes! Now just go kill something. Before I do!_

"Okay, but please keep quiet. Gnarl and I have been working on this and I don't need him distracted."

_Distracted? From what?_

"Just a little Overlordish surprise we've been whipping up. You can 'harumph' at me later. Well, as long as it works."

_Just … be careful, Harry._

_Have fun storming the cottage, sire!_

Harry grinned and lifted his gauntlet. With a wave of his arm, he bellowed "Minions … HO!"

A wave of Browns led by Bob surged over the top of the dune. A second wave followed them, a group of Reds flanked on either side by a small group of Greens. The two Blues with him were to hold back unless needed. A female scream rent the air as a small group of Browns smashed into the cottage door. A larger group rushed towards the bikini clad blond who had screamed upon sighting the minions. Harry watched as the girl spun around and rushed towards a chair further down the beach.

Harry snickered. _I was right. Not too many places to put a wand in a bikini!_

There was a cracking noise as Harry Apparated to a point between the girl and the chair she was rushing towards. The unfamiliar girl couldn't stop her momentum as – rather than use his 'wand' – Harry merely crouched down and positioned his elbow and shoulder towards her. Under his helmet, Harry frowned as the teenager slammed into him. She looked like a veela, but it certainly wasn't Fleur.

"Gabrielle!" came a panicked shout from the direction of the cottage.

_Ah. Well, that explains it. I've got to admit, it looks like she grew up in all the right places!_ Harry looked up from the downed and now vomiting teenager to see Fleur rushing from the back door of the cottage with her wand in hand. She spun and Disapparated shortly after he had already heard a cracking noise come from his left.

_A4-5!_

Harry Disapparated as a stunner speared right through where he had been standing moments before.

_G12-11!_

Harry Apparated again and planted his feet. Activating his shield, he shot a ball of fire towards Bill who tried to twist away but was unable to avoid all the flames. The redhead used his wand to douse his robes with a stream of water as an ugly looking curse from Fleur bounced off of Harry's shield. "Reds … pile on the girl. Greens and Browns, harass the male. Gnarl -" Harry pointed his wand at Fleur "- target and close." Harry spun and appeared next to where Fleur had already Disapparated from, but he had expected that.

_B6-4!_ Harry smiled as he vanished with a loud 'crack.'

As Fleur reappeared, she extended her wand towards where the armored figure which had attacked them should still be. Before she could even reorient herself, she was startled by the sound of Apparation from immediately behind her. She began to twist around as what felt to her like a lead pipe smashed into the back of her wand hand.

Ignoring Fleur's cry of pain as her hand broke, Harry backhanded her with his gauntleted fist as he once more raised his halo shield. He ignored Bill's furious barrage of spells as he casually planted a boot onto the chest of the dazed veela and slowly exchanged his wand for his sword. "Hey, Bill! You might want to stop that and bring your wand over here before your wife gets a shave," Harry called out.

Seeing the sword casually hovering over his wife's neck, Bill Weasley glanced over to Gabrielle. She was being held down by several house elf-like creatures. In resignation, he carefully shifted his grip to a two-fingered hold on the wand's tip and slowly walked over to the armored figure.

"Take my wand and tell me what you want with us. Apparently you don't intend to kill us," began Bill.

"Kill the _three_ of you? Merlin, no! That would be a waste of two perfectly good veela!"

Bill saw only a blur before his wand was lying on the sand. Right next to his hand.

"By the way … good decision on dumping the long hair and earring. Made you look like a girl."

As Bill and Fleur stared at Bill's bleeding stump in shock, Harry motioned to his minions. Several Reds and Browns quickly rushed to hold down Fleur. If veela actually _did_ have any flame powers, the Reds would suppress and absorb them before they could do any harm. Stepping away from Fleur, the Overlord had Gabrielle brought over to her sister's side. He frowned at the drying sick on the side of Gabrielle's face. She'd definitely need a bath before he made use of her.

_Hmm. How old is she anyways? Lessee … she was maybe eight. Add two til 6__th__ year, then add eight. Brilliant! A legal teen!_ Harry chuckled evilly. He would still get his sister sandwich. _Not that it would have stopped me, to be honest. Well, I would have felt bad about it afterward. Well, I would have __**thought**__ about feeling bad. For a few seconds, at least. Maybe._

Fleur started to scream, the sound blaring thru the crystal. Hermione ignored it and moved around to the open gray box next to the crystal while Gnarl clambered down from the table. Her jaw dropped when she saw the pegboard within it. "Are you completely round the twist, Harry? _Battleship_!?"

"_Well ...it worked, didn't it? The portal had to be far enough from the cottage – hold on a second." _The roar of the Overlord's flame spell could be heard as Bill screams added to Fleur's. _"Jeez, Bill. Maybe you should have kept the 'ring and the hair. You scream like a girl. Sorry, folks just had to cutterize the wound before he bled out."_

Two people rolled their eyes. "That's _cauterize_, Harry!" came from one.

Gnarl remained silent wondering who was the greater idiot. His master for enjoying his silly game or the girl for thinking that the Overlord was actually that stupid. "Honestly!" he muttered.

Hermione looked up at the minion master. "What? Did you say something, Gnarl?"

Gnarl simply shook his head in reply.

"_As I was saying, you told me about that charm that would let someone see all around them. I didn't want the headache it would cause, but it gave me the idea to have Gnarl looking all around _for_ me. Add in another number for my facing, and Bob's your uncle! I didn't even have to use the runestone."_

"Harry," said Hermione very slowly. "_What_ runestone?"

"_Erm. The one I bought from the goblins."_

Hermione tapped her foot, ignoring the screams that Gabrielle was now adding to the near cacophony. At least, she was screaming curses in French rather than just screaming for the sake of it. "The runestone which does …?"

Now the screaming and cursing was joined by a low muttering.

"Harry?"

"_The runestone that when activated suppresses Apparation in a thirty-three and three-quarter meter radius?"_ he asked.

"Why didn't you just use that, then?"

"_Because that wouldn't have been as much – erm. Because _not_ using it left me with a backup plan if Plan A didn't work?"_

"You can be a real child, Harry!"

"_Aww, but that's why you love me."_

"No, Harry. I love you in _spite_ of that!"

"_Meh. You say apples. I say oranges. Now let me shut them up. I can barely hear myself think. Then I'll put your addition to the test."_

Harry turned to the pile that was Bill Weasley struggling against a group of Browns. "_Shaddup, _Bill! _Petrificus totalus! _Sheesh, Bill … you were beginning to hurt my ears." Harry tapped his rod against the palm of his gauntlet. "I know I'm forgetting something here."

"Who are you?" cried Fleur. "What do you want with us?"

The Overlord snapped his fingers. Or at least tried to. It's not the easiest feat to perform in gauntlets. "That's it! The Big Reveal! Thank you, Fleur. I can't believe I forgot that. Probably because this was so anticlimactic. I must say, taking you three down was a lot easier than I expected." Turning towards the paralyzed Weasley, he mockingly shifted into a dramatic stance and aimed his rod at the prone redhead. Using a sepulchral voice which reverberated from deep within his helmet, he intoned, "William Weasley. I name you anathema and claim you as the next victim of the Line War which your family's crime has brought upon yourselves."

"What?" screamed Fleur on Bill's behalf. "What are you talking about?"

"The attempted extinguishing of the line of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter." Taking off his helmet, he smiled at Bill then turned to give Fleur a small wave. "Hi!" he said brightly.

"Sacredieu!"

Harry looked at her, puzzled. "I thought it was 'sacre bleu,' or something like that?"

_Is she wearing a mustache, striped chemise, and a beret?_

"What's that got to do with anything?"

_Never mind, Harry. Just go ahead and put the fear of Potter into them. I know you love doing that._

"Snape never understood … it's not arrogance if you can back it up!" Ignoring those without red hair for the moment, Harry returned his attention to Bill. "Billy, my boy, once again I'm going to go ahead and break one of my own rules. Normally, whenever a prisoner wants to know my 'dastardly plan,' I simply kill them and say 'No' to their corpse. But you're a Weasley. And the Weasleys were practically family. I've got several sweaters to prove it! Of course, why my surrogate family would team up with a school headmaster to end my life, I'll never know. Why won't I ever know? Because I'm not going to bother asking! For whatever reason, the Weasleys dug their graves and now they have to lay in them.

"You may have been out of touch while hiding here at your cottage, so allow me to give you the highlights. Let's see … several unrelated Order members ... but they aren't that important at the moment. Ronald was eaten alive by my minions. I think his head is a hand-puppet somewhere in my tower. George is history. Fred's body was desecrated for that one! Charlie -"

_I did that one,_ Hermione chirped proudly.

"Yes, yes you did. Excuse the interruption, Bill. Hermione's on the other side of a scrying crystal at the moment. She's the one that killed Charlie. I bet that one was a shocker!"

_Tell Bill I said, "Hello."_

Harry nodded. "She says, 'Hi,' by the way. Where was I? Ahh, the Burrow is gone. And you're wife and sister-in-law are about to join Ginny and Mrs. Weasley as my personal fuck toys."

_Um … Harry?_

"Yes, Mione?"

_Mrs. Weasley?_

"Oh, right. Um … heh. Funny story, that. A few nights ago, I woke up and was kind'a hungry. I wandered down to the kitchens for a late night snack and … well … it was like what climbers say about mountains. She was there."

_Harry. I'm not about to tell you who you can and can't have sex with. But why didn't you say anything?_

"Well," Harry defended, "it's kind of like going for a ride on a Cleansweep-50. Even if it was a fun ride, it's hardly the kind of thing you brag to others about." Lifting his hand to the side of his mouth, Harry stage-whispered to Molly's eldest, "Actually, I was terrified the whole time. I kept thinking I might need a mining helmet and a two-by-four nailed to my arse. Well, that first time."

_That's disgusting, Harry. And 'that FIRST time'?_

"Well, I took Ginny down with me the following night. Mothers and daughters earn gold stars on the man-card. And there's nothing wrong with 'disgusting.' In moderation. I've even been thinking about you … Luna … and a cup."

_WHAT!? That's just sick! _Grinning, Harry was about to say something before he heard a heartfelt sigh on the other end. _But … if that's what you want … I can't speak for Luna, but –._

"Stop right there, Hermione! That's just … EWW! I was joking, darling." Turning to Bill, Harry shrugged. "Don't get me wrong … total obedience is great, but it can really take the fun out of things sometimes."

_Oh? Uh … yeah. I knew that! That's why I … uh … had you going there for a minute ... didn't I?_

_Nice attempt at a save, Hermione. The implementation was rubbish, but it was a nice try nevertheless._

_Luna! Where have you been?_

_I was getting the latest slave for Harry settled. What's this about a cup?_

Harry interrupted at that point. "Don't worry about it, Luna. You're just in time for the field test of Hermione's modifications."

Fleur stared at the dead man who was holding conversations with voices in his head. "Vous êtes fou!"

"Uh?"

_She thinks you're insane, Harry._

"Oh. According to my bankers, I'm merely eccentric. And if anyone's entitled to being 'mad,' Fleur, I think I should more than qualify for that right." Harry raised his gauntlet before the two restrained veela. "But that's not anything that will concern you anymore. _Dominor!_"

The Overlord's minions released the two females as they began to convulse in pain. Harry watched dispassionately as his Evil Presence worked them through the various stages of the spell. At the point Hermione had told him, Harry clenched his fist and lowered his hand.

The two veela swayed uncertainly on their feet for a moment before regaining their balance. Their faces were now slack and devoid of expression. As one, the two blondes dropped to their knees and fell forward, prostrating themselves before the Overlord.

"We are the slaves of our Evil Master. Now and forever, body and soul, we belong to the Overlord," droned Fleur.

Equally devoid of emotion, Gabrielle intoned, "We are yours, master. 'Evil' shall be our new middle name … right after Hermione."

_LUNA!_

Harry laughed.

_I can't believe you! That's what you were doing … you were mucking about with the verification statement subset!_

Harry could hear Luna giggle on the other side. "I like it. I think it's cute," he offered in Luna's defense.

_Grrrrr. FINE! I won't kill her, then._

_Relax, Hermione. You're way too uptight._

_Grrrrr._

Harry laughed and shook his head. "As amusing as this is … something's wrong. They're acting just like drones."

_Oh. That's just to make sure that they are under your control. Just instruct them to act normally or to be themselves and their personality template will come on line. They will still obey you and be your slaves, but they will act more like their old selves. You can even instruct them to turn the personality template on or off. I know you sometimes seem to like that kink. Well, if Ginny is any indicator._

Harry couldn't help but smile. "You know me too well, Mione. Alright, you two! For right now, be yourselves. We'll test the switching feature later tonight."

"Oui, master," smiled Gabrielle as the two veela got to their feet and brushed sand from themselves.

"Save that title for the bedroom. For right now, please just call me Harry."

"Oui, Harry. Is there anything you would like us to do for you?" asked Fleur.

The two sisters stood beside each other wearing pleasant expressions as they waited for instructions. Harry rubbed his chin in thought as he motioned for a Blue to take care of Fleur's broken hand.

"Yes, first … Gabrielle. Go inside and wash that off your face. But hurry up and get back here. I want you involved in this, too." Pulling a wicked looking knife from his boot, Harry continued with Fleur, "We're going to disembowel Bill and then you and Gabrielle are going to strangle him with his intestines."

"Certainement, Harry. I hope that I won't disappoint you, though. I've never disemboweled someone before."

Harry frowned and dropped to one knee in the sand beside Bill's paralyzed form. "Hm. You're right. It can be hard for a novice to do and make sure that it doesn't kill them from the off." With a gesture, Harry bade Fleur to drop to her knees on the other side of her husband. "There's a trick to it, you see …. waitaminit! Where's Horatio? Horatio?"

"Mastah!"

"Ah, there you are did you bring your –." Seeing the camera hanging from a strap around Horatio's neck, Harry shook his head. "Right! Stupid question. Of course you did." A few quick swipes of the blade and Bill's abdomen was bared. Placing the knife in Fleur's healed hand, Harry placed one of his own over hers to guide her while pushing on Bill's flesh with his other. Glancing down, Harry smiled into Bill's wildly dilated-in-terror eyes. "He's ready for his close up, Mr. DeMille."

The flash on Horatio's camera went off as Harry and Fleur began their work.

xXxXx

_THUNK!_

"I think we should consider placing a permanent cushioning charm on this table."

Ignoring Luna, Hermione sadly shook her head and rubbed circles on Harry's back in an attempt to show support.

"It isn't fair," groaned Harry. I should be balls deep in two veelas right now!" Lifting his head from the table, Harry tried to take care of Luna's latest acquisition. "Look … I'm really sorry about this. Luna's got this weird 'enslaving people' thing, and I guess things got out of hand. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'll have Hermione obliviate you and then we can have you taken back home."

The young woman sitting across from the Overlord looked up with a strange expression on her face. "Might I ask a boon of thee, Lord Potter?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at the formal phrasing of the request. "Very well, Millicent. What boon does a child of House Bulstrode seek from House Potter?"

Millicent Bulstrode stood and rushed around the table to kneel at Harry's side. "Please, please, my lord … don't send me back! I'll do anything you want! I doubt you find my features pleasing, but I can clean … I can cook. A little. I can …."

_THUNK!_

Hermione grimaced. "That charm might not be such a bad idea, Luna."

Harry rolled his forehead left and right on the table's surface. "I don't believe it. The idiot was actually right! Mental! Every bloody single one of you."

Hermione made sympathetic noises as she switched to massaging Harry's shoulders. "Tell me, Millicent, both Luna and I know why we choose to be here with Harry. Why would you?"

"You're both so attractive … you'd never understand. It's not easy being not beautiful!"

"So tell us what it's like to be ugly."

"Luna!" hissed a shocked Hermione.

"What?"

"There's no reason to be rude!"

Luna cocked her head to the side. Confused, she pointed toward Millicent. "She's the one who brought it up."

"That's alright, Miss Granger. It's not like I don't know the truth. I've heard it almost every day since I was born ... and see it every day in the mirror. My mother died in childbirth three months after an injury took away my father's ability to reproduce. He's told me many times how, when left with an ugly baby girl as his sole heir, he used the pain curse on the midwife till she frothed at the mouth and was driven insane."

"That's horrible! It shouldn't matter that his sole heir was a … baby girl. From what I've read, he could have simply set up a Line Continuation betrothal if the family name was so important to him."

"When I was ten-years-old, he presented me to Lord Crabbe and Lord Goyle for that very purpose."

Hermione was hesitant to ask. That, of course, wasn't about to stop Luna. "So what happened?"

"They both laughed at him. Lord Goyle went so far as to say that his family's blood would never mingle with a gorilla's … no matter how pure-blooded it was."

Hermione could only gasp in shock.

"Growing up, my grandfather was the only person who ever showed me any affection. He taught me how to fish … how to hunt. I was twelve when he had a serious talk with me by the campfire. He told me not to worry about not being the most handsome of blokes. That's what the Imperius Curse and Amortenia were made for. Grandfather was a kind man, but a bit touched in the head."

"I … I don't know what to say, Millicent."

"'Boy, your life has been a steaming pile of shite'?" Luna helpfully offered.

"Luna!" Hermione hissed again.

"What!?"

"Never mind!" Shaking her head, Hermione returned her attention to the still kneeling young woman. "I truly am sorry for you, Millicent, but – pardon if I sound callous – why do you believe you would be happier here?"

Tears began to form in Millicent's eyes. "I know I'm not going to suddenly stop being ugly here. Or even be accepted, much less wanted. But I couldn't deal with going back and living with the humiliation on top of everything else! I won't! I can't!" Her voice cracked as tears began to freely fall down her face. "It's all anyone talks about anymore … either the deaths or the disappearance of practically all the girls in my old class. When Gran'da first took me fishing, I remember crying all night about his unhooking the small ones and throwing them back into the lake. No one wanted them either!"

His head still on the table, Harry spoke up for the first time since questioning the boon. "Practically all the girls, Luna?"

The blond pulled a long scroll from her robes and glanced at the list. "A few must have not been reported to the Aurors yet. Pretty much, only a few teachers remain."

"Teachers?" groaned Harry.

"Sinistra, Hooch, and McGonagall should do it."

Harry lifted his head in surprise. "Well … okay on the first and a definite on the second. But make sure her boots come with her. McGonagall, though? Yechh! And she's on MY list, anyway."

"Are you sure you want to do that, Harry?" Luna carefully edged forward to be slightly ahead of Hermione. "I was thinking 'Favorite Student' … 'Favorite Teacher' … wucka, wucka." Without looking at the girl beside her, Luna subtly started waggling her eyebrows and jerking her head back towards Hermione.

"I'm standing right here, Luna!" Hermione yelled, outraged.

Puzzled, Luna turned to look at the brunette. "Yes you are. Would you like a chair?"

Harry snorted in amusement. After a pause, he tilted his head and stared into the distance. "That's absolutely disgusting. But somehow strangely arousing. I'll take it under consideration."

Hermione's shoulders slumped in defeat. Sighing in resignation, she straightened them again and thrust out her chest proudly. Whatever Harry ended up deciding, her Master's will be done ... even if that meant her putting on a show with Professor McGonagall for his pleasure!

Harry returned his attention to the crying girl kneeling before him. He simply stared at her for a long time. Finally, he sighed and allowed his own shoulders to slump. "We're going to keep her, aren't we?"

Luna bumped her shoulder into Hermione's. "You see, Hermione, I keep telling you that he's a lot brighter than you think he is."

Harry and Hermione both simply sighed in response.

"You mean I don't have to go back?" asked Millicent, a glimmer of hope appearing in her eyes.

"Would you go so far as to say that you'd rather die than get sent back?"

"Yes, my lord! Absolutely!"

Harry nodded then stood up from his chair. "Follow me, then." With determination in his stride, Harry marched from the room. Millicent immediately leaped to her feat and followed him out, a bounce in her step.

Luna and Hermione looked at each other, both obviously puzzled. "You don't think he's going to just kill her, do you?" asked Hermione.

"I hope not! The Slytherin pool really doesn't have that much left in it! Aside from Blaise, of course."

After a shake of Hermione's head, the two rushed to catch up to the Overlord. By the time they caught up to Harry, he was already striding through the throne room and obviously heading for the tower grounds.

Two Browns in partial plate armor threw open the main doors as their master approached. Harry ignored them as he exited the tower and turned in the direction of the training field. Covering the distance at a quick clip, he crossed the field and went up to a podium which had been set up for whenever he would address his troops. Mounting a small platform to stand behind the podium and have a clear view of the men training, he pointed his rod to his throat. "_Sonorus!_ O Captain! My Captain!"

Used to the summons, a burly man rushed over from where he had been observing a number of new recruits to quickly drop to one knee before the Overlord. Slapping his closed fist to his chest in salute, he barked, "At your command, Sire!"

Hermione shook her head. She definitely needed to come up with a schedule. Harry needed a lot more sex each day. He was spending _way_ too much time in front of the television at Castle Harry.

Harry gestured for the commander of his human troops to rise and then pointed to Millicent. "I have a project for you. I want this woman trained to become one of the best of my elite. An ultimate warrior. If she should resist instruction, ever give up, or not progress as well as you think she should, her head is to be chopped off and mounted at the gate with the others. Will you do this for me, commander?" They both knew it wasn't a question, but Harry did like to keep up appearances on occasion.

"It shall be as you desire, my liege!"

Harry then turned his full attention on Millicent. "Last chance, Miss Bulstrode. This is for real. You can still choose to be obliviated and returned to England, but this is your last opportunity to take that offer."

There was no hesitation. Millicent dropped to one knee and slapped her fist to her chest as she had seen the commander do. "My life is yours, Lord Potter! I will not disappoint you."

Harry nodded and watched as his commander led Millicent away. Shaking his head, he muttered, "Mental! Every bloody one of you!"

In some strange way, Harry found himself not in the mood to immediately sample his two veela. Not quite yet, anyway. He needed something to put him back into the proper mindset.

Stepping down from the podium, Harry headed back toward the tower. Fleur, Gabrielle, and probably Hermione and Luna would have to wait. He had a letter to write … a tale to conclude.

xXxXx

Cupping his hands, Arthur filled his palms with water from the basinet. Splashing the frigid water onto his face, he looked into the mirror and saw a man he didn't recognize. The last few – _has it actually been less than a week!?, _he wondered – days, he seemed to have aged decades. Charlie dead … most of his other sons and even his own wife missing … his baby girl nowhere to be found … his family's home destroyed ….

"What in Merlin's name is going on here!" he suddenly screamed at the old man who looked back at him from the mirror.

The only response was a tapping at the window of the room he was currently renting at the Leaky Cauldron.

"If that's more empty platitudes from you, Albus, I'll be shot of you so quickly you won't know –" Arthur sighed, losing steam. The empty platitudes of others seemed to be the only thing he had _left_ at the moment. Listlessly, he shuffled over to the window to let in the nondescript owl. Untying the large envelope from the creature, he simply waved it away without even offering it a bit of water.

With a snap of its wings, the owl left in disgust.

Opening the envelope, Arthur Weasley found a letter and a wizarding photo. The photograph showed his wife and daughter tied-up, gagged, and blindfolded. They seemed to listlessly struggle in the image and in the foreground could be seen a copy of today's _Daily Prophet._

Tearing his eyes away, Arthur turned his attention to the letter.

_Artie! Hey, how yah doing? Probably not too well. My guess is that you're wondering what the heck is going on! "What kind of bad luck is my family suffering from?" might be going through your head._

_The answer would be … ME! Tah-da! Of course, answers often only lead to more questions. I really think we should get together. "Clear the air," so to speak. I've reserved a table at the Lido Café in Hyde Park for us. Don't worry … there are so many repelling charms around it that no one other than us will even know that the table exists. _

_Of course, if any Auror, Order member, or Dumbledore, even __**suspects**__ that it (or our meeting) exists because of you … well … I wouldn't be able to send you a similar picture tomorrow with tomorrow's Prophet in it._

_It's what muggle kidnappers call a "proof of life" photo. I've heard about your hobbies. I thought you'd appreciate it._

_I'm well aware that Albus likely gets rimjobs from you and/or other Weasleys, but … it's time to grow a pair and make a decision. What's more important to you? Albus? Or your family?_

_If your family is your answer (which I only give a 5% chance to considering how seriously you seem to worship at the altar of Albus Dumbledore) we can have a civilized conversation and get our problems resolved. Otherwise, well … the next photo I'll send will be a lot more entertaining for me than it would be for you. It would remind me of a muggle game show. "I can identify that individual with only four chunks!"_

_What happens next is up to you. If you wish to discuss the situation with me, here are the directions to the table in Hyde Park and what time you should arrive …._


	22. Night of the Living Village People

**Chapter 22**

**Night of the Living Village People**

***** Yeah, this chapter should more properly have a title having something to do with the Weasleys. But Luna's more fun.**

**Aside from that … I cannot lay "claim" to anything remotely connected to this tale in regards to characters or settings. "Er", not to "dis" them, or anything.**

"Weasel? Traitor – I mean table – for one?"

Arthur jerked back in surprise. He was here to see this muggle waitress? "Are – are you talking to me?"

"Weasel? Traitor – I mean table – for one?" the hostess repeated in the exact same tone.

Arthur Weasley may never have been an Auror or Unspeakable or anything of the sort, but he had fought the good fight. Not even a soldier, he had still fought in the last Wizard War when most had still refused to call it such. Looking into the girl's eyes, he was brought up short by the … disconnection … he saw there. Shuddering in revulsion, he couldn't help but think of some of the things he had seen done with the Imperius Curse … things no simple husband and father should have ever seen, even in the darkest of nightmares.

"Yes," he said very clearly. "I am Arthur Weasley."

"Right this way, sir. Your table is ready." Her expression aloof, the hostess turned and proceeded to lead Arthur to a table at the very center of the cafe. Once she was within a few meters of the table, she stopped and looked everywhere but in front of her with an expression of confusion on her face. Shaking her head slightly, she turned to face Arthur. "I'm sorry, sir. I was certain that there was an available table over here …."

Seeing the vacant table right behind her, Arthur offered the muggle a weak smile. "That's quite alright, Miss. I'm certain that I can seat myself."

"If you say so, sir. Feel free to check, but I'll go look for a free table in case you can't find one."

"That would be fine." As the hostess wandered off, Arthur steeled himself and walked directly to the "reserved" table. Even though it was vacant, it was hardly bare. On the table were a large plain box, what looked to be a wand case, a large envelope, and what appeared to be a picture frame which contained a mirror rather than a photo. Before the mirror lay a sheet of paper with "**First, touch your wand to the mirror and say 'The Overlord'**"__written in huge letters.

The thought of going through the other items first did cross Arthur's mind, but he decided against it. Someone had to have come here to set this up. Even if it were not this "Overlord," there might well be someone sitting nearby in the cafe watching him. He had no doubt that if he didn't follow directions that he would never find out what was going on and might even endanger the rest of his family.

Warily, Arthur pulled his wand from his jacket – quite nervous of doing so in front of all these muggles despite the repelling charms obviously in place – and touched its tip to the mirror. "The Overlord!"

The surface of the mirror rippled as if it were water and then began to swirl, picking up speed with every revolution. It then slowed and an image came into view and quickly stabilized. His wife and daughter were chained to a wall, still blindfolded and gagged. Small movements revealed that they were alive and they had no visible injuries. "Molly! Ginny!" he cried leaning closer to the mirror.

A figure on the other side came into view and seemed to stand in front of the mirror, blocking the sight of the women behind him. The figure seemed to sit in a chair which couldn't be seen from Arthur's point of view.

The figure struck Arthur with a feeling of dread. The man wore black armor of some sort and a dark helmet. Even though the helm was partially open down the center, nothing but dark shadows could be seen except for two blazing emerald orbs in place of eyes.

"Who are you? What do you want with us?" snarled Arthur.

The armored figure seemed to merely stare at him, offering nothing in reply. Unsettled by the continuing silence and smoldering glare, Arthur leaned forward to speak again.

It was at that point that the Overlord decided to reply. "Arthur – may I call you Arthur? Long time no see. Thank you for coming. Try the veal, I hear it's quite good."

"What?"

The dark figure shrugged. "Well, if you're not hungry, I guess we can get on with business, then."

"What possible business could we have! I don't even know you!"

"And it would seem that I don't know you. Isn't that nice? That's what's called an even playing field."

"What is going on here? What do you want with me? My family?"

"Ah. The million Galleon question, in'nit? Well, the best way to put it is that there is an unofficial, undeclared Line War currently ongoing between our two Houses."

Arthur paled. Line Wars called for the _complete_ destruction of a House. It didn't end till every member – man, woman, and child – that could possibly put forth a claim were eradicated. It was the worst nightmare of any House, be it noble or not.

"I say 'unofficial' because to make it official, I'd have to go down to the Ministry and file a formal –" at this point, the dark figure's pause was barely discernible as was a slight shift of his helmet to his right "– Writ of Constipation and … hm?" The figure raised a finger to the air. "Excuse me a moment, Arthur." This time his attention obviously shifted toward his right. After a slight pause, the armored man could be heard to say, "Really?" The Overlord then turned his helmet back to Arthur. "A thousand pardons. A Writ of _Castigation_ is filed, then notice of the specific grievance posted in the middle of Diagon Alley. The offending party then has till noon of the sixth day to make redress or suffer the consequences.

"Such a bother, really. And once it starts, nothing can stop it. Now, I like to think of myself as a nice fellow –" once again, his helmet turned to his right for a moment "– stop snickering! – and would like to give you the opportunity to put an end to this while some with the Weasley name still live."

"Some?" croaked Arthur, his voice cracking. "Who –"

"We'll get to that, I promise."

"Wha … what have I ever done to you? What would be so bad that –"

"Harry Potter."

The calm declaration turned Arthur's blood to ice and caused all the color to leave his face. He sat there in open-mouthed shock. He had always thought of himself as a good man. Some men wished for riches, some wished for fame, and some for power. As far back as he could remember, his only true desire was to be known as a good husband, good father, and good man. It had taken years for the nightmares about Harry to begin to fade. They still cropped up upon occasion and he would awaken weeping in the arms of his wife.

After a long while, Arthur finally managed to whisper, "It was necessary. It was the only way to stop He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. There were … factors … you couldn't know about." Rattled to the core, he didn't even try to deny knowledge of what the Overlord was talking about.

"Like what? His having a horcrux inside of his head?"

The shocks just wouldn't stop. "You … you know?"

"Oh, yes. You think all of this has been done on an uninformed whim? I can assure you that I didn't just wake up one day and just go 'Hmm … I think I'll exterminate the entire Weasley line for the heck of it.'" Well, not that he would admit to, anyway.

"Then you would know that it was necessary. It was for –"

The armored figure cut Arthur off harshly. "STOP right there! Understand one thing! If the phrase 'the Greater Good' should pass your lips at _any_ point in our conversation, I swear that I will gouge out your wife's left eye and eat it and then bend your precious daughter over this table and rape her right in front of you!" Settling back in his chair, the Overlord's voice turned light and cheery. "I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"What can I say besides that I wish it didn't have to be done? Losing his family at such a young age … not being raised in the best of homes … having that vile filth stuck into his head by a monster …. It was a monstrous act we had to perform, you'll get no denial from me! There was just no other way, though. While he lived, You-Know-Who could not be killed!"

"Who?"

"What?" asked Arthur, puzzled.

"Potter? What, were you expecting me to say 'second base'? Potter couldn't be killed while Voldemort lived?"

"I'm sorry –"

"Yes, but that's beside the point," chuckled the Overlord. "Drop a pair. If you are too chicken 'you-know-what' to say Voldemort, just use Tom Riddle. Personally, I like to think of him as Marv. I'm sure he'd hate that. You know, Arthur, you remind me a bit of Remus. He liked to think of himself as a good man, I'm sure. You both run – or ran, in his case – around, do things that would even turn a criminal's stomach, and then go 'Woe is me. I feel so guilty about doing what was easy rather than what was right. Feel pity for me and tell me what a good person I actually am.'"

"It was NOTHING like that!" screamed Arthur, slamming his fist on the table.

"Temper, temper, Arthur. Let me let you in on something. A young woman of my acquaintance – I like to think of her as the most _beautiful_ witch of her generation – spent eight years looking into horcruxes. She found five different ways to have it safely removed from a living being. The Unspeakables had two on the books, the goblins have a way, another is Syrian, and the last is Chinese. Two of them were downright funny and one would even be considered a 'Light' ritual! Albus had _sixteen_ years to do the same research."

"I – I didn't know," Author weakly managed, his anger gone. "Why didn't he use one of them?"

"Who knows? Maybe he never bothered to look. If the Great Dumbledore didn't know how to do something, maybe he thought it couldn't be done. Maybe – what?" The Overlord scooted back in his chair slightly and looked down at something below the level of the table. "No, you don't have to thank me. It was the truth. No! I didn't say stop! I just said you didn't _have_ to thank me." Raising his head, the Overlord continued, "Now where was I? Oh, yes! Maybe he _wanted_ Harry to die for some reason only known to him. Maybe his ego had him holding too many jobs and he was just too busy to do the research. Or maybe, like you, he would allow less important things to distract him."

"Like me?"

"Line War, remember? Your women are chained behind me and you don't know the whereabouts of several of your sons. You've been too concerned with trying to rationalize to yourself that you're a good man and did the right thing when you helped needlessly murder a child who viewed you as a surrogate father."

Arthur jerked back as if struck.

"Ah, good. That got your mind back on track. Now … this will not be pleasant for you. Mostly because I have no _desire_ to make it pleasant for you. But you will sit there at that table and you will put up with it. If you allow me to punish you, I'll release these two and never bother what remains of your family again. Are you willing to make this sacrifice for your family? Before you answer, if you should end our discussion and leave before _I_ am satisfied, the Line War shall continue and any new deaths shall be on your head. Don't worry, though. In the event that that happens, I'll make sure to save you for last so you'll have plenty of time to feel guilty – and moan – about each and every death you will be directly responsible for."

Arthur hung his head low. Harry could see his knuckles turn white where he was gripping the edge of the table. While waiting for Arthur's answer, he merely sat back and continued to enjoy Hermione's ongoing display of appreciation under the table on his side of the mirror.

_Who knew angst could be so much fun when it was sitting in someone else's lap for a change? _Harry grinned under his helmet.

"Where are my children?" Arthur finally asked.

"It's a 'yes,' then. Good. Now, let me reassure you that Ginny is not the only one who is alive. Take comfort in that. We'll take them one at a time.

"Charlie you know about. I'm sure the rumour mill at the Ministry works much like Hogwarts'. The rumours are right. He did not die in a dragon attack. One even tried to rescue him! Not a lot of people could lay claim to something like that.

"George … is … _no longer_ amongst the living! Go ahead and pull the first photo out of the large envelope."

It took a minute, but Arthur finally did as instructed. His hands shook as he stared at the photo. George was chained with his arms above his head. The expression on his face implied that he was laughing hysterically and his flesh was bloody and hanging loosely from him in places.

"That's just a suit he's wearing, by the way. Of course, the suit is made out of Fred's skin, but I thought they should be together in death. I know it loses something since it's a muggle photo, but I needed to keep things simple for the photographer. If you'd pull out the next, please? I don't think that one needs any commentary."

The next photo was a closeup … a headshot. A trio of parallel blades originating from beyond the picture edge had sliced half-way through George's neck. Blood was fountaining from the wound and George was still smiling at the camera. Harry shook his head at that one. He _so_ wished that one had been a wizarding photograph.

Harry watched impassively as Arthur dropped the photo as if burned. Once again grabbing the edge of the table, his body shook as he took deep, shuddering breaths. "That's okay. Go ahead and take a second. We still have a ways to go."

"You're … you're a monster!"

"Maybe. But I've never conspired to murder an innocent child. And then tried to rationalize it. I'd think that there's a much more uncomfortable spot in Hell reserved for you than there is for me. If you believe in that kind of thing. Now … ready to continue?

"Percy … is … a complete prat! Aside from that, he's … _still_ amongst the living! Isn't that special? Even though I might consider him a waste of oxygen, I have no reason to believe that he was involved in Harry Potter's death. He wasn't a member of the Order, and he tended to separate himself from the family as much as possible. He's safe. Well, as long as you grant me satisfaction today."

"You sick bastard!"

"Nope. Picture of health. Next up is your youngest son, Ronald. Sorry, but he's been digested."

At the puzzled expression on Arthur's face, the Overlord explained. "I have minions. They're not fussy eaters. If you pull out the next photograph, that will help to explain."

Harry had carefully gone through the sequence of photos related to Ronald. Unlike those he had originally shown to Hermione, every photograph in the pack was chosen because they specifically did not include any of his minions within the picture. Letting that particular kneazle out of the bag was not in keeping with his plans at the moment.

"As you can see, I chose not to do the always fun 'spit from arse to mouth roasting over a fire' scene. My minions prefer their meat raw. Still, as you can observe from the next four photos, I think it turned out well enough."

The first photograph was of Ronald hogtied on a large silver platter. An apple shoved into his mouth, his nude form was covered in burns, cuts, and lash marks. "In the next four photographs, you can see the progression as more and more chunks were removed from him for my minions' dining pleasure. He was alive until around the next-to-last picture, I believe. Forgive the last picture … I can be a bit of a narcissist at ti-iiEEEmms!" The Overlord's hand darted below the table. Quietly enough that Arthur couldn't hear – his attention being held by the photographs in his hands – Harry whispered to the girl between his thighs, "Please don't do _that _ again! There's still a bit to go up here."

Arthur's stomach was heaving, his heart running a race he knew he'd already lost. He threw the photographs down onto the table before him, scattering them. On top lay the last one: Ronald's head attached to a relatively intact skeleton except for the arms and legs which had been removed in previous photos. The Overlord stood on the far side of the platter. Wearing a bloody apron over his armor, he also wore a toque perched on the top of his helmet at a jaunty angle while he presented two thumbs-up to the camera.

"Stay with me, Arthur. We're almost done."

Arthur shook his head. As his stomach threatened to expel its contents onto the table, he pushed his chair back and prepared to do … _something_. His mind reeling from repeated shocks, he had yet to determine what.

"ARTHUR!" roared the figure on the other side of the mirror. "Sit down! If you don't, your wife and the rest of your children will pay the price!"

Arthur Weasley placed his palms flat on the table, his eyes clenched shut, tears streaming down his face. Silent, he simply shook for a few minutes gulping in huge lungfulls of air. "I'll kill you for this. I swear by all that's holy, I don't know how – I don't know when – but I _will_ kill you."

"Meh," shrugged the Overlord. "I doubt the second time's the charm, but who knows? Still … _that's_ the spirit! Now sit back and take another breather. Just one more child to go. Just concentrate on Ginny, Percy, and Molly. So far, you definitely know that they're alive and depending upon you. And there's only one photo left in the pack; you never know … it may be a picture of me in my skivies! I do have a twisted sense of humour. Or maybe it's a photo of Bill and his wife barbecuing on the beach at Shell Cottage, proving that their fidelius is no defense against me if I _should_ decide to go after him. So tell me … do you feel lucky, Weasley? Well, do yah?"

He wasn't. But he had to know. Ripping apart the envelope, Arthur Weasley looked at the last remaining photograph. He promptly started to gag. Once Bill had turned an interesting shade of lavender, Harry had ended the curse-breaker's petrification. The photo showed him flailing between a smiling Fleur and Gabrielle. Each had their hands full of his intestines which had been looped around his neck. Harry thought Gabrielle had been precious. After ordering the girls to "have fun with it," she had posed for the picture holding up the fingers of one hand as "rabbit ears" behind Bill's head.

"Oooo … sorry about that. I hope I didn't get your hopes up too much." Harry watched as Mr. Weasley twisted in his seat and vomited what seemed to be just a little bile as he continued to gag and heave. "Ouch! You should have had the veal. I've been stabbed, burned, pummeled, hit with the torture curse, disemboweled by a giant panda … hells, I've even been killed. Trust me when I tell you that I haven't found anything more painful than a bout of dry-heaving."

_Ginny, Percy, Molly! Ginny, Percy, Molly!_ It was a mantra in Arthur Weasley's head. Whoever this monster was, he had gone after the Order and his own family. Albus had no idea who he was and was obviously unable to protect anyone. Ginny, Percy, Molly … their fates rested upon Arthur's shoulders and no one elses'. His squib brother, cousins, distant relatives … their fate rested on him as well, but they barely crossed his mind as more than a footnote. He had to put up with this madman for right now for _their_ sakes.

"By the way, Arthur, don't blame the girls. You battled the Death Eaters. You've seen what spells like the Imperious Curse can make a person do. Now! I understand that it's customary in a Line War to present the Head of House with the wand of his direct heir if said heir is killed. Supposedly, it's an 'honor thing.' Personally, I think it's more of a mocking gesture, but who am I to argue with tradition?" With a gesture, the Overlord indicated the wand case on the table with Arthur.

Opening the case, Arthur threw it away from himself and repeated his dry-heaving.

"Bloody hell! It's supposed to be the _other_ wand, isn't it? Sorry about that, Arthur. My bad." Chuckling, Harry gave Mr. Weasley a few minutes to compose himself. Luna and Hermione had been concerned that all of this would have pushed Arthur too far.

But Harry had faith in Mr. Weasley. Arthur was actually a _good_ man. Harry could respect that. Arthur had just had the misfortune of helping murder the wrong man. _And_ that man survived to be really pissed off! If Harry could set the idea in Arthur's mind that "the Greater Good" in this case was the welfare of his wife and surviving children … well, he was certain he could get that good man to do _anything_!

"Arthur? Stay with me, Arthur. I know you're hurting right now, but that part is over. Percy, Ginny, and Molly are alive and well. Now we simply have to discuss what's needed to keep them that way. Can you talk yet, Arthur?"

Wiping his mouth with a napkin from the table, Arthur spoke with the voice of a broken man. "What do you want of me?"

"I want you to give me satisfaction, Arthur. In exchange for that, I will unchain Ginny and Molly and tell them that they are free to go. I will not stop them, and I won't go after them to kill them at a later time. You have a surviving heir in Percy to carry the Weasley name into the future. I'll never go after him as long as he stays out of my affairs. I'm sure that he and Miss Clearwater can settle down and secure the – eh? Hold on a second." Glancing down towards his lap, the Overlord seemed to be listening to something. "Really? She did? When? Well put her on the schedule for tomorrow. What? Of course I know there's a schedule! With you here, there was never any doubt." Looking back up, the Overlord resumed his conversation. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm sure that Percy can find some nice young witch to settle down with and secure the line. If you agree to follow my instructions, I'll even give you a Wizard's Oath to that affect."

"I'm no fool, 'Overlord!' An oath given with some made up title is worthless!"

The Overlord shook his helmet in exasperation. "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur … you would not be getting the oath of the Overlord." Reaching up, Harry removed his helmet. "You would be receiving the oath of Lord Potter, last of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter." Harry smiled at the expression on Arthur's face. Merlin, he loved that look.

"This … this isn't possible!"

"Neither is defeating a Dark Lord as a babe. Or killing a professor of defense possessed by Voldemort at eleven. A basilisk at twelve … need I continue?"

"How could you do this to us? They were your friends! Practically family!"

Harry stared at Mr. Weasley with an incredulous expression on his face. "And aren't you kind of conveniently forgetting the whole 'conspiring to kill me at sixteen' portion of our talk? Even using your own laws, I have more than enough cause to declare a Line War on the Weasleys, Dumbledore, and practically every Order member!"

Arthur looked down in shame. He didn't feel that it was deserved, but what Harry had said was true. The laws didn't care that Arthur had felt he had been doing the right thing at the time. Morally, in his eyes, what Harry was doing was wrong. In the eyes of the law, his actions had been more than justified.

"How do I put an end to this?"

Harry nodded at the man. "You believe that it is okay to sacrifice an individual for a greater number of people. I'm going to give you the chance to prove it. Go ahead and open that last box on the table. I hope you appreciate the effort I made to get it. I know you are fascinated by muggle things."

Carefully opening the box, Arthur saw a strange muggle contraption lying within. "What is this?"

"That, Arthur, is a Webley Mk VI revolver! Even though it's practically an antique, it will be more than adequate for what I have in mind."

Pulling it out of the box, Arthur examined it as he turned it over in his hands. "What does it do?"

"It's basically a muggle wand that casts only one spell: their version of the killing curse! Doesn't that sound fascinating? If you agree to use it on yourself, I'll give you that oath. The needs of the three outweigh the needs of the one, don't you think?"

Arthur was silent for a long time. _Come on, Arthur! I have faith in you, old man!_

"How do I use it?"

Harry clapped his hands together. "Oh, you'll love it! No incantation needed!" Making a faux-pistol with his hands and fingers, Harry spoke as he demonstrated. "You can aim it at your temple, like this. Or ahn dah rorh ah yah moo' lahk' 'iss. Or if you want to go out like a girl, you can aim it at you own heart like …. Sorry, even without gauntlets, I don't see how they do it without hurting themselves."

"I'll take that oath now. And I would like to ask you a favor."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Okay. No promises, but I'll listen."

Arthur sighed, hoping to save as many as he could. "I don't know if you've already gone after her, but Hermione was the hardest to convince. She kept insisting that there had to be another way. We couldn't drag her out of the library until she was satisfied that there was nothing to be found about horcruxes. Have mercy on her."

Harry stared at Mr. Weasley. Finally, he sighed. "Damnit, Arthur. You've earned yourself a small courtesy. I _was_ going to make you go through this twice." Reaching to something behind his side of the mirror, Harry pulled out a companion revolver to the one in Mr. Weasley's hand. "Do this … it opens the top-breech. See those oblong things in the box? They're called .455 caliber bullets …."

After showing Arthur Weasley how to load the pistol and snap the breech shut, Harry pulled out his rod. "Don't worry, you'll see. It's my new wand. I can't help the fact that you and the others fried my original one." Clearing his throat, Harry lifted his rod before him. "I, Harry James Potter, do swear on my life and magic that in exchange for Arthur Weasley taking his own life at the conclusion of this oath, that I will unchain both his daughter and his wife and allow them to go where they will and will neither stop them nor attempt to kill them in the future and will also leave Percival Weasley in peace as long as he does not align himself with my enemies or try to harm me in the future. So mote it be!" Harry was surrounded by the glow associated with the making of a Wizard's Oath. Lowering his rod, he nodded at Arthur. "I hope that will suffice, 'cause it's all I'm willing to give."

"That'll have to do. I _am_ sorry, Harry. But I also hope that you rot in Hell!" With that, Arthur, as shown by the Overlord, aimed the pistol at the roof of his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Three tables away, a young black woman had been attacking her veal with a formation of asparagus, the snow peas having already given their all in the first wave. It had been their own bloody fault; peas were pants at flanking maneuvers. Everybody knows that! As soon as she had seen Arthur lifting the loaded Webley to his head, she reached into her jacket and had withdrawn her wand. With a discrete wave and a murmured dispelling charm, she allowed everyone in the cafe to hear the shot and see the resulting scene. As the top of Arthur's head exploded in a spray of blood and brains, she leaped to her feet, shrieking, overturned the table and started racing for an exit.

Pandemonium ensuing behind her, Luna looked for a place to change her glamour to that of Albus Dumbledore. First, she would find a telephone and call 999. Next, she intended to moon the nearest camera with Dumbledore's bony arse. Then, she had to find a floo and report the incident to the Ministry. She fully expected an army of Obliviators to have their hands full for the next several hours.

She would have smiled as she raced through the exit, but she had forgotten to ask for a to-go box in advance. She had _really_ wanted to try the veal.

Back in the tower, a second shot had been fired at the same time. After a moment to clean up, Hermione stood and frowned at her master. "I thought I had told you that I had only found _two_ possible ways to take care of the horcrux? And both of them were quite risky!"

Harry smiled at her as he pulled her into his lap. "That's right, you did. And I also told Arthur that I thought of him as a surrogate father. I've only met the man a handful of times. A likeable chap, definitely. But a surrogate father? I mean, really!"

Hermione glanced over to the two Weasleys chained to the wall. "What about them?"

Lifting the brunette from his lap, Harry stood and walked over to the two women. "An oath's an oath, Hermione." After unlocking the manacles on the pair, Harry removed their gags and blindfolds. Once released, they stood before him, their arms at their sides, a complete lack of expression on their faces. "Well … you two are free to go."

Harry waited. The girls merely looked at him.

"Really … you two can go wherever you want to. Don't worry, I won't try to stop you. And I have no plans to kill either one of you. Now … shoo! Fly away! Be free!" Harry made brushing away motions with his hands.

Molly and Ginny continued to look at him.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourselves?"

Ginny spoke in a dull monotone. "Where do you want us to go, master?"

Harry chuckled at the drones. "Ginny. My bedroom. Once there, strip and get on the bed on all fours and wait for me. Molly ... you may return to the kitchens."

Without acknowledging their orders, both drones turned and left the room to carry them out. As Hermione hugged him from behind, Harry chuckled again. "Accept a Wizard's Oath? Arthur … you're such a stupid wanker. I wonder who came up with something that dumb, anyway?"

xXxXx

Peering into the first coffin, Harry's jaw dropped. "You have _got_ to be bloody kidding me!" If Remus hadn't been dead already, Harry was certain that the old werewolf would have died of embarrassment.

Yes, Remus may have looked serene in his repose, but he would have worn a completely different expression if he had ever seen himself wearing those tight, black leather pants. Motorcyclist boots, a black leather cap, fingerless gloves, assorted chains …. A black leather vest worn with no shirt underneath revealed the ugly scar on his chest from the wound which had killed him.

Harry couldn't help but snort as a stray thought struck him. "All he needs is a handlebar mustache and he could be in that Dennis Hopper movie I saw the other night. 'Course, they'd have to change the name of the telecast to something like 'Poofty-Rider.'"

"That's horrible, Harry," groaned Hermione.

"Yes … but so true." Taking a few steps to the next coffin in the grand ballroom of Castle Howard/Harry, the Overlord looked down upon the next corpse. "I've got to admit, though. The biker-babe look _really_ works for Tonks. The leather straps used to cover her breasts and the spiked dog collar are especially nice."

Peering down beside Harry, Hermione offered, "I think those are bandoliers crossing her chest. How they are supposed to stay in place, though, I haven't the foggiest."

"I used a minor sticking charm. It's probably quite uncomfortable, but I don't think an inferi would really care. It's too bad both Patils made it through the battle, though. I had this nice idea for an Indian outfit."

Harry merely shook his head. "All I really want to know, Luna, is … why?"

"I was thinking of the effect you were looking for. You want them to evoke a sense of violence and savagery when they're sent to attack people, right? Leather – animal skin – and chains combined with the violent stereotype associated with bikers to monstrous purpose."

"It looks like they're headed to a discotheque!" complained Hermione.

"And doesn't that just horrify you! Make you cringe! Give you goosebumps! Grrrr! Rawrr!" At the end, she started snarling and clawing at the air in front of her like some rabid kitten on Valium.

Shaking his head, Harry chuckled while Hermione rolled her eyes. "Bikers … disco … when did you learn so much about muggles, Luna?"

Luna merely shrugged at Harry's question. "When I was shot of the wizarding world, I mostly painted. Whenever I got bored, rather than go to Diagon Alley, I found myself wandering around London. A strange place, but quite exciting!"

Harry wandered around and peered into a few more coffins, smiling about how silly most of the fallen looked after having been kitted out by Luna. "I must admit that it's not quite what I was looking for. I wanted them to look a bit more zombie-ish."

Hermione lowered her head, ashamed at having to disappoint her master. "I'm sorry, Harry. On those whom the stasis spell had failed before being disinterred, I used the same spell I had used on Fred. I was hoping to integrate something into the spell which would change them into inferi, but the counter that would prevent them from developing with that bland, generic humanoid look, interferes with the modification to make them look more like zombies on the telly. We could use a glamour on them after the fact, but that would have the problems normally associated with that spell."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Namely, requiring periodic reapplication and the fact that powerful witches and wizards will note that a glamour is in place even though they can't see what it's covering up."

Luna cocked her head to the side. "What do these zombie-thingies look like?"

Hermione responded automatically. "Ghastly pallor, ragged wounds … imagine a corpse not placed under a stasis spell after several days have passed."

Luna bounced up and down on her toes. "There's a charm for that!"

"What? You're joking!" exclaimed Hermione.

Luna rolled her eyes. "No, Hermione, it's a _real_ charm. It's in a _real_ book and everything! I'll be right back!"

Watching Luna run out of the ballroom, Hermione asked, "Did she just insult me again?"

Harry chuckled. "Now, now, Hermione. I very much doubt that Luna is capable of insulting anyone. Think of it as simply a jibe amongst friends."

Hermione harrumphed as she crossed her arms.

It wasn't but a few minutes later before Luna came racing back with a large tome in her arms. Planting her feet, she skidded several feet sideways past the entry to the ballroom while crying "Wheeeeeee!" Skipping through the entryway, she stopped in front of Harry and Hermione. "I remember seeing it in here … it was a charm created by Wilhelm Otinsbergen the Not-Quite-So-Dark Lord in 1412."

Hermione just stared as Luna started flipping through pages. "The Not-Quite- no, you really have to be joking!"

"Nope! Here it is on page 335. He wasn't a big fan of the color black so always wore bright, primary colors. Rather daring for a necromancer at the time! He also wasn't a big fan of squick. A number of rituals he used required fornicating with corpses. He developed the charm so that corpses fitting your description of zombie-thingies wouldn't be as repulsive to have sex with!"

Harry shook his head in bemusement. "Truly … weird, Luna. I don't see how it helps, though."

"The charm's reversible. It's also designed to be able to decay the corpse to an even worse state than it originated. I think that was used to impress fellow necromancers if they ever came around after a ritual was finished."

"That's just … sick," grimaced Hermione.

"Wizards are insane. No doubt about it." Harry chuckled, "I'm surprised that no one ever came up with a spell to restore the corpse's bodily functions. You'd think the pervs would have –"

"There's a charm for that!"

Hermione lowered her head and groaned while Harry lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

Luna started flicking through the book again. "Strangely, this charm was not rooted in perversion. It was designed by a witch who was turned into a vampire. She was no longer able to use magic but helped a friend of hers to create a charm which had been intended to change her back to human."

"Intended?" asked Hermione. "I take it that it didn't work, then."

"The charm was only partially successful. Bodily functions in her corpse started up again, but the body was restored without her soul. The friend ended up with a living shell much like the victim of a dementor. Without constant attention, the body soon expires again."

The Overlord rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "I'll be back in a few." Without saying more, he left the ballroom and headed for the closest portal.

"Luna … how many more twisted and deranged spells are in that book?"

"Oh, there are loads and loads of them, Hermione. Very few of them would be useful in combat, however. I was planning on going over several of the least icky ones with Harry as soon as he finished with Dumbledore and the rest."

Hermione shook her head wondering whether she really wanted to know what Luna would place where on her "icky" scale. As the blond flipped through the book looking for other interesting spells, Hermione decided to wander the rows of coffins. She was going to scream bloody murder if she saw someone dressed up as a policeman or construction worker, however.

Twenty minutes later, Harry came walking back into the ballroom and leaned a broom against the wall.

"Where did you rush off to, Harry?" asked Hermione.

Harry smiled at her. "The Forbidden Forest." Moving over to Remus' coffin, he looked down at the werewolf once again. Eventually, he shook his head and stepped over to the next coffin. "Luna, could you cast that vampire-cure charm on her, please?"

Luna shrugged. "Sure, Harry. Are you planning to try some of the necrophilia-related rituals?"

"Not exactly," grinned Harry. "Oh, and Hermione … thank you yet again for teaching me that summoning charm so long ago."

Luna cast her charm as Hermione asked, "What's going on, Harry? What are you planning?"

The Overlord simply smiled at her. Placing a ring on his finger, he rotated it three times.

In front of Harry, the air started to shimmer. A translucent glob of some sort began to form and then started changing further, gaining a humanoid shape. While remaining semi-translucent, the features of the shape grew more and more refined until an apparition floated before him.

Spirit-Tonks opened her eyes. "Harry? But you're dead! _I'M_ dead! I was just watching Teddy a second ago. What the FUU-"

Reaching out, Harry grabbed Tonks by the throat with the arm that contained his Overlord gem on an armband. The amber jewel glowed brightly as he took a solid hold of the spirit and swiveled at the hip. Looking much like he was spiking an American football, he slammed his hand down to the now-breathing shell of Tonk's flesh.

"-UUUCCKK!" yelled Tonks as she sat up in the coffin.

Harry grinned at the resurrected Auror as he called over his shoulder, "Looks like you were right -" _THUNK!_ "- Hermione?"

Looking over his shoulder, Harry saw Hermione laying sprawled on the ground. Glancing towards the nearby Luna, he flinched after seeing her wearing the most frightening smile he had ever seen on a human being. "Luna?"

" SQUEE "

"Luna?"

" SQUEE "

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" suddenly blasted into Harry's ear. "And WHAT in Merlin's name am I wearing!?"

"Sheesh, Tonks! Dial it down a notch or six."

"Bellatrix killed me, Harry! I watched till Dumbledore killed you so that he could kill You-Know-Who! If you're alive, that means HE is, too!"

Harry stared Tonks in the eye. Suddenly, he smiled. "Thank you, Tonks."

"For what?" she asked in confusion.

"Assuaging my conscience. _Dominor!_"

Tonks fell back into her coffin, screaming in agony. Twisting about in excruciating pain, she started clawing at the sides of her coffin.

Harry chuckled with humour absent from his eyes. "Well, that answers the question: What would Tonks be doing if she were alive today?"

The Overlord lowered his hand at the appropriate point. Tonks immediately moved to kneel within the coffin, her hands clasping the edge closest to Harry. Lowering her forehead to rest upon her hands, she said, "I am your slave, master. I exist only to serve and _service_ you. Repeatedly and with gusto. With or without Hermione around."

Harry laughed, this time with genuine mirth. "Thank you, Luna."

" Squee "

Harry shook his head. "Alright, Tonks. You can act naturally. And just call me Harry for the time being."

"Thanks, Harry." Standing up, Tonks moved to step out of her coffin. Her foot caught the lip of the box and she tripped, falling toward the coffin next to hers. Throwing her hands out, one palm hit the floor while the other struck Remus' body between the legs. "Ouch! Sorry about that, honey," she said casually as Harry winced in sympathy for the corpse. As she stood and moved to stand before the Overlord, she glanced down at her attire. "Interesting get-up. I haven't worn anything like this since sixth-year break." Frowning, Tonks started to scratch at her bandoliers. "Itches like the dickens, though!"

Harry grinned and walked over to Hermione. He decided that an enervation spell was unnecessary – the damn things hit you like a shot of adrenalin! Kneeling next to her, Harry gently lifted her head and started patting at her cheek.

Hermione slowly made her way back to consciousness. Seeing Harry looking down at her with concern, she smiled up at him. "I didn't mean to drift off, Harry. I had the strangest dream! You had just quite violently buggered all the laws of Magic and Nature! I actually thought –" over Harry's shoulder she just caught sight of a smiling Tonks. Seeing the bushy-haired girl notice her, Tonks gave Hermione a slight wave. "AHHHHH!"

"Hermione! Calm down! Relax. What's the big deal? You're the one who told me that I could do it."

Sitting up, Hermione stared at Tonks. Finally finding her voice, she spoke as if to a small child. "No, Harry. I told you that it was _theoretically_ possible given your talent of metempsychosis."

"So? Theory proven. What's the big deal?"

"YOU FUCKING BROUGHT THE DEAD BACK TO LIFE!"

"Hermione! Language! I still don't see what's your problem."

"Harry. Let me explain. You broke the only truly immutable law of Magic!"

"Yeah. And I think I broke Luna, too." Harry glanced over at the blond.

" squee "

Harry just shook his head.

"Fuck Luna, Harry!"

" SQUEE! " Luna started wildly snapping her head up and down.

"Later," Harry smiled at Luna. Turning back to Hermione, he said, "You had a theory. I proved it right."

"But … but bringing people back from the dead is impossible!"

"Imperial evidence would seem to suggest otherwise."

"That's _empirical_, Harry."

"Oh. Okay. Are you feeling better now?"

Hermione kept looking from Harry to Tonks and back. Finally, she shrugged. "Meh. Sure, why not? It's not like you've never buggered the laws of magic before."

"That's the spirit, Hermione!" Standing up, Harry extended an arm to help the girl to stand beside him. Cocking his head to the side, Harry suddenly whirled around. "I've always wondered, Tonks. Could you show me your base form?"

Tonks rolled her eyes at her master. Shaking her head, she used her ability to change her shape.

Harry couldn't keep the smile from his face as he laughed. "I saw that film! I loved you in that! What was it called again? Something about a kid or something? Every man is an island?"

"Tonks!" Hermione harrumphed and crossed her arms while putting on her most affronted look. "Stop that! You are NOT Hugh Grant!"

"What? A girl can't have two jobs?"

Still laughing, Harry tried again. "I'm serious, Tonks. _Show_ _me_ your base form."

Tonks sighed. "Yes, Harry." Changing her shape once again, Tonks stood before them looking exactly as she normally did. Aside from the outfit, of course. "Tah-dah! This _is_ me! Holding a shape takes effort, and – pardon me if I sound arrogant – I don't think the real me looks too shabby! Come to think of it –" looking over her shoulder she tried to look down her back "– I'm guessing that I'm really rockin' this thong and the assless chaps!"

"I will agree with you there, Tonks. I always just figured you might look like someone else."

"Nah, Harry. If I ever felt insecure about myself, why would I walk around looking like this when I could always walk around looking like Diana Dors?"

"Who?"

Hermione shook her head. "Think … sex-symbol with hair dyed Malfoy blonde."

"Madonna?"

"No, Harry. She was back in the day when women wore safety-cone looking bras …."

"Madonna."

"No, Harry! This woman would be old enough to be your grandmother."

"MADONNA!"

"GRRR!"

Tonks merely laughed. "Have you ever heard of Marilyn Monroe?"

"What? Oh, yeah. _Her_ I know. I never saw the big deal, though. She never did anything for me."

Hermione looked at Harry in confusion. "You know who Marilyn Monroe was but not Diana Dors?"

Harry nodded. "Certainly. She was in one of Sirius' heirlooms that I inherited. He had the entire collection of _Playboy_ from the first issue – which Marilyn was in – to about three months after he was put into Azkaban. I guess his subscription ran out."

Hermione put her palm to her forehead. "Why do I even bother?"

Harry chuckled and started to idly twirl the Resurrection Stone around the tip of his index finger. "Relax, Hermione. You keep acting like you're in the middle of a loony bin or something."

" Squee! "

Looking over at Luna, Harry saw that she was hopping and pointing at a spot behind him. Before he could turn around, he heard a man and a woman's voice.

"I can't believe the amount of shame I am feeling."

"You vile, disgusting, psychotic pile of walking shite!"

Shaking his head, Harry slowly turned around after plastering a lackadaisical smile onto his face. "Hi, dad. Love yah, too, mum."


	23. Meet the Fockers

**Chapter 23**

**Meet the Fockers**

***** Dang that shtupid spell-checker!**

***** Yes, yes – no messages about the powers of the Hallows, please. As they stand, the light-putter-outer is more impressive. I'm just giving them a bit more "oomph."**

"Hi, dad. Love yah, too, mum."

_Note to self: Do NOT idly toy with the Deathly Hallows!_

Harry forced himself to maintain his smile as Hermione sidled over to him. Worriedly, she took hold of his hand as he slipped the ring on all the way. "Harry?" she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

Harry flashed her a true smile. "No worries, Mione. I'm not the scared little boy you knew all those years ago."

"Harry," she snorted, "you jumped on a troll's back and shoved your wand up its nose when you were eleven!"

"Okay … so I'm not the emotional midget in desperate need of approval that you knew?"

After a moment of consideration, Hermione nodded her head. "I can go with that."

Placing an arm around Hermione's waist, Harry returned his attention to the apparitions. All three of them. "What? No contemptuous comment from the Padfoot gallery?"

Sirius Black merely stared at him from behind his parents. "I reserve comment for the time being."

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. Finally, he nodded to his godfather with what appeared to be at least a modicum of respect.

Unsurprisingly – from the tales he had heard about her temper and being a stereotypical ginger – Harry's mother showed no inclination towards being civil. "You –" she began with a shout.

Harry held up his left hand. "Shut it." He was as surprised as everyone else when the amber jewel on his armband glowed and his mother's mouth, much to her shock, clamped shut. Fortunately, Harry was rather proficient in concealing his emotions when necessary.

_Another note to self: Soul manipulation seems to entail much more than just moving them from one point to another. When time permits, unleash Hermione and the Ravenclaws. And that reminds me …._

Performing an exaggerated bow towards the shades of his parents and godfather, Harry calmly announced "As amusing as I'd find listening to the verbal vitriol -" he couldn't help but grin as he felt Hermione shiver against him "- directed at me by two people _I don't even know!_ – I have much more important matters to deal with at the moment. Namely … someone I care a great deal about is in need of my attention."

"Those psycho-trollops of yours – ARRRGGGHHH!"

His left fist clenched in the air, Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise as his father's spirit fell to the ground and screamed as if he were under the cruciatus curse. Once again, the amber jewel glowed as a warm tingling shot up his arm.

"'Trollops'? Really? Whores or sluts I could almost understand, but who on earth actually uses the word 'trollops' anymore?" Harry's voice turned into a growl as his expression grew stormy. "And keep a civil mouth, dead man. Say what you will to me, but my ladies are off limits." Relaxing his stance and resuming a normal tone, Harry continued, "Besides, I'm sure that Luna will one day bear your grandchildren." Seeing Hermione adopt a strained smile beside him, Harry paused to stroke her cheek as his father continued to scream in agony. "As certain as I am that my Hermione here will one day birth the heir to the Potter line."

Hermione practically melted in Harry's arms at his statement only maintaining her footing by his hold on her. A comfortable, all-encompassing warmth suffused her entire being as she smiled up at him with a slightly dazed expression. "I love you, Master," she managed to whisper.

Recovering from his shock, the shade of Sirius Black rushed over to James' side and grasped him by his shoulders in an attempt to stop his thrashing. Looking up, he saw that Harry was seemingly lost in Hermione's eyes. "Harry! For the love of Merlin, stop it!"

Harry looked back to Sirius and seemed momentarily embarrassed. "Whoops. Sorry 'bout that." Unclenching his fist, he released his father from his torment. Returning his attention to the girl pressed closely against him, he ran his hand through Hermione's hair. "And I have _always_ loved you," he smiled. "Sane or not … past, present, or future. I can say that now. Thank Kelda the next time you see her," he grinned.

With an inscrutable expression on his face, Sirius Black watched as the young couple who had saved his very soul from Dementors in their third year gazed lovingly at each other. James' torment had troubled him greatly, but James calling Hermione that had been completely uncalled for. James had watched Harry's life from the other side just as Sirius himself had. Even if Harry _had_ gone dark, the young witch was at the very least another of his victims and deserving of sympathy and not scorn ….

With a kind smile on his face, Harry guided Hermione so that they stood before Luna. Extending his free hand, he cupped her cheek. "Thank you, Luna."

"Squee?"

"For believing in me and supporting me when no one else did. And I'm sorry for not believing you in return. You were right. It would seem that I _am_ the Great Necromancer, Little Luna," Harry added with a chuckle. Leaning forward, Harry gently placed his lips to hers in a tender kiss which, while not sexual, was filled with love and gratitude.

As Harry withdrew, he noted the shine of unshed tears in Luna's eyes. "You're more than welcome, my lord."

"So … are we good?"

"Always. Well … metaphorically speaking, maybe not morally."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I think that there are at least two or three people here who would agree with you." Seeing that Luna was smiling a little more sanely and not speaking in "squee's" any longer, Harry turned on his heel and walked towards the three apparitions. Upon reaching the coffin of Bellatrix Lestrange, he took a seat on the corner and gestured towards his parents. "Very well," he sighed theatrically, "let the verbal vomit commence."

Tonks looked around uncertainly, not knowing what was expected of her in this situation. She guessed that she was likely to be warming her master's bed as a shape-changing sextoy at his desire, but how did one serve the Overlord otherwise? Falling back on her Auror training, she moved to stand behind her master in a 'guard' position believing that she should probably guard his body until he was ready to use hers.

Lily steadied her husband as he recovered from whatever curse had affected him. Staring daggers at her own son, she forced herself to maintain some semblance of calm. She had no idea what Harry had done to her earlier, but it wouldn't do for him to wave his arm and silence her again. Not until she had given the little prick a piece of her mind, at least.

"Know that we've been watching you, you piece of shite! I should have drowned you at birth! How could you have gone Dark? We've watched you murder, rape –"

"Now, now," interrupted Harry. "I've already had this talk with Kelda. I've never _raped_ anyone."

Ignoring her son, Lily continued, "– and basically spit on and trample everything your father and I stood for! What we _died_ for!"

"First off … you do realize that the way to win is to make the _other_ guy die for _his_ beliefs, right?" Harry chuckled.

As Harry and his mother continued their verbal sparring, Luna heard a whispered "Budge over." Hermione sat down next to Luna where she perched on another of the coffins while watching the show. "I never expected Harry's par – is that buttered popcorn?"

"Uh huh."

"Where on earth did that come from?"

"Conjured it."

"You know that's not real, then."

"Uh huh. Fat free. It'll just create a bad case of gas when it changes back to air. We can have a belching contest!"

Hermione shook her head at the little blonde. "Oh, what the hell," she muttered as she reached in to the proffered bag.

"So, mum … you and da have been watching me. Should we skip over the 'nature versus nurture' debate and get right to the fact that my life mostly sucked? That I was used and manipulated for years by the Light until I could be set up as some sort of sacrifice for the Greater Good?"

"And that should excuse your later actions?" shouted James. "All woe to the little orphan boy? I'll have you know that your mother and I sacrificed ourselves for that Greater Good you speak of with such contempt!"

Harry chuckled. "I don't believe in excuses. Never needed one. 'Juicy rationalizations,' however … well, I have more than enough of those to keep me sleeping like a babe."

"And with a babe! Or babes."

"Thank you, Luna." Harry shot her a quick grin. "You sacrificed yourselves for the Greater Good – funny, I had always assumed it was for me to live – well, good on ya. That was your choice. It sure as hell wasn't mine. I wanted to survive the Dursley's, go to school like a normal wizard, meet some nice witch," everyone noticed his smile in Hermione's direction at that comment, "and spend the rest of my life making little Potters."

"And what about Voldemort?" asked Lily with some heat.

"Bugger him. And the people too scared to say his name. There's a Ministry of Magic, a force of Aurors, and a wizarding population where each and every bloody individual carries a deadly weapon! Why should putting down a mad dog be made the job of a bleedin' teenager? If I had been smart, I would have been shot of England and left it to stew in its own mess."

"It was your destiny! It had to be you! The prophecy was quite –"

"A muddled mess of tripe, dad! Merlin knows how many interpretations could –"

"Forty-two."

Harry's head jerked around. "What?"

Hermione blushed as she swallowed a mouthfull of popcorn. "At least that's what I came up with. I started growing disillusioned with Dumbledore a few years ago and sat down one afternoon and examined it for myself. I came up with forty-two possible interpretations. That includes calendar selection, tenses, and the defining of terms such as 'lord' and 'vanquish.' That does not count the additional permutations that come with setting Albus as the Dark Lord in question."

Harry flashed his best Lockhart-smile and swept his arms in Hermione's direction. "Hermione Granger, ladies and gentlemen! All that _and_ sex-on-a-stick, too!"

"And you couldn't have done that in sixth year?" muttered Luna.

Still blushing from Harry's praise, Hermione shot Luna a nasty look but remained silent.

"With all due respect to your … _friend_," Lily practically sneered, "Dumbledore thought the prophecy to be quite clear. '_Neither can live while the other survives_.'"

"Which makes no sense. We were _both_ alive until he hit me with the killing curse on Halloween. Then we were both alive and 'surviving' in between the time he got himself a new body and Dumbledore hit me in the back with that curse or hex. So … I've got a theory! Dumbledore's a crazy old git who'd been sampling the sherry of the fraud who _made_ the prophecy!"

"I've got a theory," came from Luna. "That he's a demon. A dancing demon? No something isn't right there."

Harry turned to look at Luna in abject confusion. "Albus? Or Riddle?"

"Stop talking about Albus like that! Dumbledore's a great, great man! You're not even worthy of saying his name."

Harry slowly swung his head back to his mother. He then turned his gaze to look at the corpse inside the coffin he currently sat upon. He kept switching his gaze between his mother and Bellatrix. Shaking his head in disbelief, he turned to his two ladies. "Remind you of anyone?"

"Hermione? Oww!"

Drawing back her elbow, Hermione hissed, "Cut it out, Luna! That's in the past."

Luna just smiled as she rubbed her sore side. "Maybe. But it'll never stop being funny."

Harry sighed and shook his head.

"I knew Albus a little longer than you two did, James … Lilly. He _has_ made some bad calls. Both concerning Harry and myself."

"Stuff it, Padfoot. He never did anything that he didn't have to do!"

"Like drop me at the Dursley's like a bad quaffle?" Harry interjected.

Lily merely crossed her arms and glared at her son. "Regrettable, but it had to be done."

"But _I _was supposed to get him. I _am_ … well – _was_ – his godfather!"

"I'm sorry, Pads, but there were other considerations."

"Other considerations? _This_ I want to hear!"

Reaching out behind him, Harry dipped his hand into Luna's bag of popcorn. "Ditto on that. Something tells me it's gonna be a doozy."

James began to backpedal. "That's not important. Just know that it had to happen given the situation."

Sirius looked to be seriously considering physical violence, but Harry was even more determined to know how his parents could possibly support his years of hell at Privet drive. "No more stalling!" he growled. "Tell us all about it."

Feeling as if it had received a minor electric shock, Harry's right ring finger twitched. Glancing down at it, he noticed that was the finger he had slipped the Resurrection Stone onto when the apparitions had first appeared. _Oh, crap! What now?_

"Multiple plans were made depending on the possible outcomes of that night. The odds were good that at least one of us would have survived and could raise Harry to fulfill the prophecy. If we both died, Sirius couldn't be allowed to raise Harry. Being raised by the Dursleys would allow Albus to become a strong influence later in Harry's life …."

"James!"

A flick of his left hand once again served to silence Harry's mother. "Why couldn't Sirius be allowed to raise me?" Harry was now unsurprised to feel the small twitch of the finger adorned by the Resurrection Stone.

"He would have raised you to be independent. We had no idea that you would become a horcrux, but the prophecy was clear that you would eventually have to die. There was no way you could take on a wizard of Voldemort's ability and experience."

"You're damn right that I wouldn't have offered him up as some sort of sacrifice! And how exactly were my rights as his godfather to be removed? Was my imprisonment planned, too?" Sirius hissed in disgust.

James remained silent, refusing to look upon his fellow Marauder.

"Answer him!" demanded Harry.

"I don't know. We thought it better not to ask. But we knew Albus would do whatever he felt was necessary."

Sirius reeled backward as if physically struck. Harry's childhood … his own time in Hell … those had been part of some grand design of Dumbledore's for the Greater Good? If things had not worked out with Peter as they had, would Albus have arranged his death? Would he be lying next to Alice and Frank in a ward at St. Mungo's? And would it have been with his best friend's implied consent?

James approached his friend holding his hands out beseechingly. "Padfoot, look –"

"Don't call me that, Potter! You've lost that right!" shouted Sirius, cutting his fellow marauder off!

Harry happily munched on another handfull of popcorn.

"Take a moment and think, Sirius," came from Lily. "This was more than about us! All of wizarding Britain – possibly _all_ of Britain – was at Voldemort's mercy."

Sirius ignored the redhead and stared accusingly at James. "You would have actually _allowed_ your own House to die out due to some rubbish prophecy? Sacrifice your own son? My godson! Your father is likely spinning around in his grave right now!"

"We could always check?"

Harry nearly choked on his popcorn but finally managed to gasp out, "Shush, Luna."

"This was bigger than any _House_, Pad- Sirius!" James tried to explain. "The decision wasn't easy by any stretch, but there was no other choice! Yes, House Potter would have gone dead, but at least the _name_ would always live on. It would be remembered for defeating the Dark Lord. People would always remember House Potter as the house which gave its all for the Light!"

Sirius simply stared at James, his incredulity plain on his face.

Harry broke the momentary silence. "Hermione, who defeated that 'not-quite-so-dark' Dark Lord in the 1400's? The one who dressed brightly."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, I didn't even know that there _had_ been a Dark Lord in 1412!" Being Hermione, she couldn't help but add, "Luna said the Dark Lord's name was Wilhelm Otinsbergen, in case you were curious."

"No … I wasn't. But it kind'a sounds like the 'eternal glory' of a Tri-Wizard champion, don'cha think?"

"Well, I can name at least _one_ of the winners."

Harry shared a grin with her before returning to the show. Raising his hand as if he were a student in a classroom, Harry wondered, "Since pops here has already tipped the cauldron and revealed his desire for the Potter name to be in the history books … what was _your_ reasoning, mum? An old git says that your son needs to die and you're okay with it?" Needless to say, Harry had raised his _right_ hand … the one with the Resurrection Stone. He grinned at the expected tingle.

Lily now realized why her husband had been so foolishly open. No matter how much she struggled against it, she seemed to be under the effect of a strong compulsion charm of some sort. "No! I was not 'okay' with it, you piece of filth! No matter what you would like to believe, though, Dumbledore was _not_ wrong about the prophecy. Albus is the greatest Leader of the Light since Merlin himself. He doesn't make mistakes like that. He assured me that he had tried to come up with some other option, but there _wasn't _one! Of course I didn't want you to die, but there was no way around the prophecy. That first night or some time in the future … it didn't matter. You were dead as soon as that prophecy was made. Tragic, yes, but your death would save the lives of countless others. I took what little comfort I could in that."

Lily truly had no problem with anything she had said, but some things simply weren't talked about openly. She fought the feeling again, but was compelled to continue. "Your father and I were not mentioned in the prophecy. There was a slight chance that we might have survived that night. A baby brother or sister would have provided some additional comfort while enabling the Potter name to continue as well."

Sirius barely registered the presence of Harry or his ladies. He was busy staring at the two strangers he had thought he had known so well. "Your own son … the sole surviving heir of an Ancient and Noble House …." Sirius shook his head, unable to wrap his mind around either concept let alone both!

Strangely, Sirius found himself remembering the two largest influences upon him during his life. One had been his own parents who had driven him away. The other had been Harry's grandparents who had welcomed him with open arms.

Two men … both patriarchs of Ancient and Noble families. Two men who were as different as light and day.

One taught bigotry, anger, and hatred. The other espoused acceptance, compassion, and loyalty. But both had taught responsibility, honour, and _family. _And _both_ would have been completely appalled at a man willing to throw his family's name and history away for some ephemeral cause. As much as they had despised him, Sirius' own family had never legally cast him out once he had become the last heir to the name of Black.

Born to the Dark, Sirius had fought for the Light. Even though he had never had the chance to officially wear the ring, he was every bit the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House. He still believed in the Light, but he no longer believed that Albus Dumbledore or his friends were actually part of it. Even in the Light there was retribution.

Making up his mind, Sirius walked to stand before Harry while completely ignoring Lily and James. "Lord Potter."

The Overlord stood up to face his godfather, a matching neutral expression upon his face. "Lord Black."

"I cannot condone your actions since your murder at the hands of Albus Dumbledore, but I can understand them while disagreeing with them."

Harry lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "I can understand your point of view and accept it, Lord Black," he replied in all seriousness.

Every inch the Lord of an Ancient and Noble House, Sirius stood before his godson and stared into his eyes. Neither flinched nor gave any ground. "But that won't change anything, will it?"

"No. I'm afraid not."

After a moment, Sirius Black nodded and offered a half-bow which his godson returned. Harry stood bemused as Sirius moved to stand before Hermione and gave her a similar examination. She stood to face him, her entire body signifying a proud determination even though she had no idea what to expect.

Still in his Lord persona, Sirius decided to be blunt. "Do you love him?"

Hermione took the question as an insult. Gritting her teeth, she practically growled, "Yes! I'd die for him! I'd kill for him!" In a quieter voice, she said, "His is my master, my life, and my love."

Looking into her eyes, Sirius saw the gleam of a fanaticism which he had not seen in anyone since his cousin Bellatrix. That wasn't completely accurate, he admitted to himself; his cousin was a simple candle compared to the bonfire that raged within this one. Closing his eyes, he pictured the little girl who had helped rescue himself and Buckbeak. He found himself mourning her loss. And Harry's.

But she was gone now. They both were. And it was Albus Dumbledore's fault. "And this bird, Harry … any good in the sack?" he tossed over his shoulder.

Harry had to grin. Sirius would never change. "She's fantastic, Sirius. Bloody amazing, in fact!"

Sirius found himself grinning as well as he watched Hermione smile and proudly puff up her chest at Harry's compliment. With a nod to Hermione, he moved over to stand before the blond.

Luna looked up at Lord Black but didn't bother to stand. Arching an eyebrow at him, she said, "If you dare question my love for Harry or my sexual prowess, I'll kick you so hard your bollocks will come shooting out of your mouth."

Sirius laughed. "You do realize that I'm just a spirit? I don't have a body that you could kick."

Luna merely smiled at him and pointed over her shoulder. "Two rows back, third from the left. Would you care to watch?"

Sirius winced. "That won't be necessary. Take care of him, you two." Turning back to face Harry, he asked, "Would you do me a favor, pup?" Lord Black was now gone. Harry's godfather now stood in his place.

"I'm sad to say 'It depends,' Padfoot."

"Spirits have the option to hang around for a bit and watch their loved ones. I have no desire to watch any more; I intend to move on now." Pointedly glancing at the ring on his godson's finger, Sirius begged, "Let me go. Don't call me back."

Harry felt his eyes moisten. "I understand, Snuffles. Good luck on your Next Adventure."

Both man and spirit nodded to each other knowing it would be their final goodbye. A single tear dropped as Harry watched his godfather fade away.

"I always knew that S.O.B. would go Dark! I don't care if he was your friend, James –"

Lily Potter's ginger rant quickly ended. It was hard to continue as one fell to the floor and curled up into a fetal position while screaming themselves hoarse from something much worse than the cruciatus curse. That curse simply had every nerve ending send pain signals to the brain. The Overlord's Evil Presence, however, affected a person's very soul. And a spirit was pure soul … there was no cushion of meat to moderate the effects.

James Potter had always been a likable fellow. Charismatic and belonging to both an Ancient and Noble house … men had wanted to be him and women had wanted to bed him. The sorting hat had placed him in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw for a reason, however. Never had the hat's accuracy been proven so well as when James Potter launched himself at his son.

Also not being a Ravenclaw, the Hufflepuff known as Tonks jumped forward to intercept Harry's father.

Spirit met resurrected metamorphmagus. Of course they passed right through each other. Tonks flailed wildly as she continued through James Potter to stun herself, her head impacting with one of the many coffins in the room. James soared through both the Auror and his own son to fall a short distance beyond Harry.

Disoriented, James shook his head. "Damn! I forgot I was – urrkk!"

Harry Potter lifted his father by a firm grip on the back of his neck. "Tsk, tsk, dad. I'm the Overlord. I hold souls in the palm of my hand nearly every day. That doesn't mean you can handle flesh. And I'm sad to say that the more I get to know you, the more I have to admit Severus was right! You're an arrogant, obnoxious, egotistical and spoiled dunderhead." With a casual toss, Harry threw his father towards where his mother was currently recovering from his Evil Presence.

Luna and Hermione made a space between them as Harry came over to sit with them. Shaking his head at the offered bag of popcorn, he wrapped an arm around each of his ladies while ignoring the groans coming from a slowly reviving Tonks. "I don't know what Snape saw in my mother, though."

"I've always heard that I was just like her: smart and bossy. It seems that she worships authority figures, too."

Harry looked down at the girl at his side with concern. "You're nothing like my mother, Hermione."

Hermione's smile caught Harry by surprise. "Don't worry about it. I'm not. You see … I've finally chosen the _right_ authority figure." Grinning, she lifted her head to give Harry a quick peck on the lips.

Harry chuckled as he rolled his eyes. _Mental. Every one of them. Especially the insane ones._ "Now … I guess it's just a matter of figuring out what to do with them."

"They do deserve some sort of punishment for their attitudes," nodded Hermione, deep in thought. "There's always the standard 'send the male to the mines and turn the female into a sex-slave.' Well, with the addition of resurrection. That part is new."

"The mine/sex-slave bit is getting kind of old. And why, in Merlin's name, would I ever want my mum as a sex-slave?"

Luna shrugged. "She's got a nice rack."

Harry looked at her, horrified. "Are you serious? She's my mum, for Christ's sake!"

"True. But it's not like there's any familial bond. You barely know her," added Hermione in an indifferent tone.

Luna nodded sagely. "Inbreeding would be the only real concern. I'm sure the Blues could spay your new pet and Bob's your uncle."

"No! Just … no." Harry shuddered as goosebumps formed upon his arms. "Besides … she looks an awful lot like Ginny. That's just wrong."

All three watched James Potter huddle with his wife as he held her close. Her spasms had yet to stop from the Overlord's Evil Presence aura.

Off to the side, a hand was raised amidst the coffins and waved weakly. "I'm alright. Move along, there's nothing to see here."

Harry had to chuckle. "Are you okay, Tonks?"

"I'm feeling better," she groaned. "I think I'll go for a walk, now."

"Get over here, you idiot. And in the future … leave the spirits to me."

Shakily, Tonks slowly crawled over to her master. "No problem, boss. I'll remember that."

"Are you going to be good? I have no intention of _not_ taking you to bed on your first day back."

"I'll be fine, boss. A pain potion should take care of the pounding headache I'm feeling at the moment. After that … don't worry. I won't be good. I promise I'll be very, very _bad_."

"Sounds great to me. Say … are you familiar with all the Holyhead Harpies?"

"Aww jeez," Tonks groaned. "It's always _them_. And I'm a Puddlemere fan! How come it's never just high-heels, stockings, and garters?"

Harry had to laugh. "Okay, we'll compromise. All the Harpies in high-heels, stockings, and garters."

"Crap. I walked right into that. I hate those, too. I never can get the clips on the back straight."

Laughing, Harry reached out and ruffled Tonks' spiky hair. "Hey, Brainy Girls! I have a question for you: It seems that we can now make zombies – and make them look icky or not. Do you think that there's a way for me to put a soul into an animated corpse but not put it in control or enslave it to my will?"

"I'm not sure I understand, Harry," Hermione responded.

"I want a regular inferius under my command. But I want a soul trapped inside of it … aware and feeling everything but unable to do anything about what the inferius is doing."

"Oh. Okay. I've got it. And it dovetails nicely with an experiment I've been thinking of. But why?"

Harry tried to conceal a frown. Luna wanting to perform an experiment just raised all kinds of mad-scientist warnings in his head. "There seems to be a niche for all kinds of fetishes on that internet thing. It might be funny to have mum and da make me money doing zombie-bondage porn or something like that. Once Albert breaks the time travel problem, I'd love to send copies to Voldemort and Snape. I wonder if they'd fight each other to become the president of the wank club?" Harry chuckled.

"That's … that's just wrong," muttered Hermione.

"I think it may be possible," came from Luna. "But I'll need someone brought back like Tonks in order to perform some tests. Preferably female."

"Hurm? Why female?"

"Well, I'm sure that you would like to have sex with the result. Otherwise, what would be the point?"

Harry had to nod at that; Luna definitely had him there. Standing, he made a brushing motion with his right hand. His parents faded away. Smiling, he wondered if they would continue watching him. In the end, it didn't matter, though. He could always use the stone to call them back.

Harry then glanced around the rows of coffins. "Luna … what if your experiment fails? What's the worst that would happen?"

"Well, I guess the soul would be consumed so it would be as if a Dementor had swallowed their soul. The body should still be good, though. And sustainable. You could think of it as one of those muggle love dolls but made of flesh and not requiring inflation."

_Hmm. That's not too bad._ Moving to stand before a coffin, Harry took hold of his ring. "Okay, but be careful with this one, please. I have it on very good authority that the nutters are the best in bed. And speaking of beds, do you two want to join me and Tonks later?"

Hermione was about to open her mouth but grimaced as Luna rather forcefully stepped on her foot. "A lovely idea, master, but **we** should get to work on this immediately. I wouldn't feel right letting your parents avoid their punishment longer than necessary."

Harry shrugged and returned his attention to the Stone and the corpse before him.

"Luna!" Hermione quietly hissed. "What's this about? I have to give Harry –"

"Not today," Luna replied in an equally quiet voice. "Damn it, girl … you want to give him something special. Something you can only give away once! Do you want to cock it up like you did the first time you gave it away?"

Hermione froze and blanched, having just been verbally slapped in the face.

Luna softened her tone, feeling sorry for her love's love. "Don't be something he gets in between a beater and a chaser. Wait until it's just you and him. Or just the three of us. I'll find some excuse to have to leave the two of you alone."

Hermione threw her arms around Luna's neck. "Thank you, Luna! You're a better friend than I deserve."

"Yes. I am."

***** Yeah, I'm sorry. This should have been out at least three weeks ago. One night writing, one night proofing, and third night posting. This chapter fought me, though. It seemed that I was pulled away and had to exit after every fourth or fifth sentence. So, like the last three chapters, this one's skipping the 'second read' stage. I hope it's alright.**

***** Again … apology thru preview of the ephemeral Book II**

"… _Hear me Salazar Slytherin, mightiest of the Four Founders …"_

"Oi! Marv!"

Voldemort spun around to face the most obnoxious nuisance he had ever met. "**I told you to stop calling me that!**" he screamed

"Sheesh! Don't blame me. It was your mum that named you. Now … before you call out old Nessie and force me to take her over and have her eat you … I was just wondering: you're a spirit shard tied to a horcrux using a living girl as an anchor, right?"

"How do you _know_ these things?!"

"Wouldn't you like to know. But back to my question. I was just wondering what would happen if I did this …."

"What?"

"_Avada Kedavra_."

There was a clatter as Ginny Weasley's wand fell to the ground, the shade of a sixteen-year-old Voldemort having disappeared with a slight 'pop.'

"Hmm. Definitely more of a whimper than a bang."

Walking over to the eleven-year-old girl he had just killed, the Overlord started going through her robes. "Ahh, here we are!" he smiled as he pulled out an old diary. Running his hand over the book, he could practically _feel_ the soul cowering within.

Chuckling, the Overlord opened the book and placed his hands upon the pages while smacking his lips. "I can do with a light snack, Tommy-boy. But _do_ try to put up a fight this time."


End file.
